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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75576-0.txt b/75576-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..192a5f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/75576-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9794 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75576 *** + +Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. + + +[Illustration: _Old Stanfield House.—Frontispiece._ + "Evening, Zeke," said Cassius.] + + + + THE + + + OLD STANFIELD HOUSE; + + OR, + + THE SIN OF COVETOUSNESS. + + + BY + + LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY + + AUTHOR OF + + "IRISH AMY," "THE FAIRCHILDS," "RHODA'S EDUCATION," ETC., ETC. + + + —————————— + + "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world." + + —————————— + + + PHILADELPHIA: + AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION + NO. 1122 CHESTNUT STREET. + —————————— + NEW YORK: NO. 8 AND 10 BIBLE HOUSE, ASTOR PLACE. + CHICAGO: 73 RANDOLPH ST. + + + + ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by the + + AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, + + In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. + + ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— + + + + CONTENTS. + + —————— + +CHAP. + + I.—THE OLD HOUSE + + II.—SCHOOL + + III.—AUNT BETSY + + IV.—CASSIUS + + V.—CALISTA ASKS A QUESTION + + VI.—THE SECRET DRAWER + + VII.—MISS MEEKS + + VIII.—MARY + + IX.—THE STORM BREAKS + + X.—MISS DRUETT + + XI.—THE NEEDLE-CASE + + XII.—THE TRUNKS + + XIII.—THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE + + XIV.—OLD JAEL + + XV.—EVIL INFLUENCES + + XVI.—THE FAIR + + XVII.—MR. FABIAN CALLS AGAIN + + XVIII.—MISS PRISCILLA + + XIX.—MISS PRISCILLA MAKES CHANGES + + XX.—AN EXPLOSION + + + + THE OLD STANFIELD HOUSE. + + —————— + +CHAPTER FIRST. + +THE OLD HOUSE. + +CALISTA STANFIELD stood at the gate of the old Stanfield place one +morning in the latter end of May, looking abroad over the fields. +The house stood on a little rise of ground such as in that part of +the world is dignified by the name of a hill. The foreground of the +picture on which she was looking was not very cheerful in itself, being +neither more nor less than an old family burying-ground, very full of +gravestones, and with one tall monument towering over all. Now an old +graveyard need not be a melancholy sight, provided that the grass be +kept green, the stones whole, and the enclosure free from ugly weeds. +That on which Calista was looking bore traces of utter neglect. Beyond +the graveyard spread fenced fields, some in pasture, others in the +carefully-marked squares which showed that they were meant for sweet +potatoes, or were tinted with the pale green blades of the springing +corn. Low-growing oaks, with here and there a large tree, closed is the +prospect. + +Calista looked at the melancholy graveyard, and then turned and looked +at the house behind her—the old Stanfield place. The one prospect was +not more cheering than the other. The mansion had been a fine one, +built of small bricks brought from Europe, and with much ornamental +woodwork about it. It stood on a high stone basement, and had a flight +of solid gray marble steps rising from each side to a wide porch with +brick pillars, and quaint carving about the gable; but the woodwork +was gray for want of paint, and in some places falling for want of a +timely nail; the steps had sunk away, leaving a yawning chasm between +themselves and the floor of the porch; most of the shutters—solid +wooden shutters such as people affect in that part of the world—were +closed, and others hung by only one hinge. There had been a somewhat +pretentious garden at one side of the house, with ornamental +trellis-work and a summer-house once covered with climbing roses; but +the trellis leaned this way and that, the summer-house had partly +fallen in, and the beds were overgrown with grass and weeds. + +When old General Stanfield was alive, nothing about the place, from +the grand house to the smallest chicken-coop, was ever suffered to get +out of repair. Then the house was filled with cheerful company from +one week's end to another. The second Mrs. Stanfield, like the first, +had only one child, a boy, who grew up mostly at home, sometimes under +the care of a tutor, sometimes running wild with rod and gun under the +charge of a man who had been his father's servant all through the war, +and who was still living in a little house which the General had built +and given him on the borders of his great estate. + +By and by the young Richard went to Princeton, and managed, despite a +great deal of idleness and some foolish frolics, to scramble through +his college course without disgrace or expulsion, and even with some +degree of credit. + +"Well, young Stanfield is fairly off our hands," remarked one of the +professors to the president on the evening of commencement. "I wonder +what he will turn out?" + +"There are two things either of which may possibly make a man of him," +replied the president. "And they are, to marry a sensible, energetic +woman, or to go into the army." + +"Well, if marrying will save Stanfield, I am sure I hope he will +marry," said the professor; "for, much trouble as he has made me, I am +very fond of the boy." + +As it happened, young Stanfield did marry and did go into the army, +yet neither of them made much of him. He went to the North on a visit, +and there married a pretty, poor girl, with no home of her own, and no +fortune save the very liberal outfit provided by the distant cousins +with whom she lived. + +It had never occurred to Richard Stanfield that his father could be +seriously angry with him for anything he could do. He had been allowed +his own way, and plenty of money to carry out that way, ever since he +could remember, and if his father had ever been seriously displeased, a +little coaxing penitence from his graceful, handsome son had been all +that was needful to reconcile the indulgent father. + +If Richard had taken his wife directly home, things might have turned +out very differently, for Calista was a sweet, gracious creature, +though timid and somewhat reserved. + +Richard, however, was well pleased to stay where he was, and he wrote +to his father and waited for an answer, amusing himself meanwhile, as +he had done all his life, with whatever came to hand. + +There was a power near the throne on which Richard had not calculated, +and which was in no wise friendly to him. Miss Priscilla Stanfield, the +General's daughter by his first wife, had at first been fond of the +pretty boy baby, and after his mother died, she had befriended him in +her fashion, till he began to interfere with the exercise of her ruling +passion. Richard loved to spend money—Miss Priscilla loved to save it; +and between the two there was a perpetual contest, sometimes open, +sometimes covert, but always more or less active. When Richard was at +home, his influence was usually uppermost with the General, who was not +very strong-minded at any time; but when Richard was away, his father +was wholly in the hands of Priscilla, who had her own ends to serve. +Priscilla persuaded her father that Richard had disgraced his family by +marrying, clandestinely, an obscure girl without family, education, or +money. + +The consequence was that the General wrote a very harsh letter to his +son, forbidding him to bring home the young woman with whom he had so +disgracefully connected himself. If he chose to return without her, +he was at liberty to do so. The young woman could remain with her +friends, and a suitable allowance should be made her. If Richard chose +to comply with these terms, well and, good; if not, Mr. Settson, the +old lawyer in Cohansey, was authorized to pay to his order the sum of +three hundred dollars a year, which was all that he must expect from +his father. + +"It is Priscilla's doing!" said Richard to his wife. "I see her hand +all through it. My father must be in his dotage. Does he take me for a +fool, or a villain?" + +"Oh, Richard, we have done very wrong!" said poor Calista. "I never +guessed your father could take it in that way. I thought you wrote to +him. You said you would." + +"Well, I meant to, but the time went on, and on the whole I thought it +as well to wait. I am sure I never guessed he would take it in such an +absurd way any more than yourself. And three hundred a year! It is just +nothing." + +"I don't mind that so much," said Calista, to whose New England ideas +three hundred dollars seemed a much larger sum than it did to Richard; +"but it is so dreadful to think that your father is angry with you. +Perhaps if you were to go and see him—" + +"I am not sure but it would be a good plan," said Richard, +thoughtfully. "If I could see him alone, I dare say I could bring him +round; but there is Priscilla." + +"Perhaps you might, bring her round too." + +"You don't know her, Calista. Priscilla used to be a pretty nice girl +when she was young, but she always loved money, and now I think she +cares for nothing else. If you had only been rich, she would have +thought it was all right." + +"Still, if you were to go there," urged Calista. "I would stay here, +you know, till you came back; I might even take the school again." + +"Take the school indeed! Don't let me hear of such a thing!" + +The time came when Calista was only too glad to take the school again. + +Richard fully intended to go home, see his father, and "make all +right," as he said; that is, get his own way, as he had done twenty +times before, by dint of coaxing. But several things happened to +prevent him. He had a slight accident while riding, which lamed him +for two or three weeks; then Calista was very unwell, and he could not +think of leaving her; and then winter set in, and he persuaded himself +it would be as well to wait till spring. + +Meantime the war of 1812 broke out. The war fever ran very high in that +part of the country. Richard fell in with it, as he did with everything +that was going. He raised a company by his own exertions, and took +command of it. He was soon ordered west, and bade a tender farewell +to his wife, whom he commended, in an earnest and dutiful letter, to +his father's care and affection. At Calista's earnest request, he also +wrote a kind letter to his sister, and enclosed both in one envelope. + +Whether these letters reached their destination, Richard never knew. +His company was engaged in the disastrous affair of the river Raisin, +and not a man escaped the horrible massacre which followed. + +His little girl, born three months after her father's death, was +motherless as well as fatherless when she was five years old. The old +couple who had stood in the place of parents to Calista Folsom were +both dead, and her poor child, with no near friends, was left on the +hands of distant cousins, who had, or thought they had, enough to do to +take care of their own families. What was to be done? + +"I am just going to write to her father's family," said Mrs. Tom +Folsom, at whose house poor Mrs. Richard Stanfield died. "I would like +to keep the child myself, for she is a dear little thing as ever I saw, +but I seem to have my hands full already." + +"I suppose we might all say that," said Mrs. John Folsom. "But what is +our Christianity worth, my dear Sophronia, if it does not lead us to +the exercise of practical self-denial?" + +"Self-denial—humph!" retorted Mrs. Tom. "Don't talk to me about +self-denial, Amanda. The difference in price between your winter +set-out and mine would keep the child a year." + +Mrs. John kept her temper, at least so far as words were concerned. + +"You forget that I had Calista on my hands for two years before she was +married," said she. + +"During which time she did all the sewing and spinning of the family, +besides keeping school three terms!" retorted Mrs. Tom. "I don't think +you can lay claim to much self-denial on that score." + +"Don't let us make the dear child a source of discord and contention," +said Miss Malvina Fitch; an elderly lady who lived by herself on a +very small income, which she eked out by spinning, braiding hats, and +other means. "Let Sophronia write to poor dear Richard's family, as she +proposed, and if nothing comes of it, we will see what can be done." + +"If nothing comes of it, the child will have to come on the town for +support, so far as I see," said Mrs. John, decidedly. + +"She won't do that while I have a roof over my head and half a loaf +to share with her," said old Miss Malvina, with more warmth than was +common with her. "Dear Calista's child shall never be a town charge if +I can help it." + +"Well, you needn't flare out so!" said Mrs. John. "I only mentioned it." + +"Yes, and you ought to blush even to mention such a thing!" said Mrs. +Tom. "Poor as I am, with my sick husband and helpless boy, I would work +my fingers to the bone before it should happen. Our own relation, and a +soldier's child besides, and you sit there in your satin and fine cloth +and talk of sending her to the poor-house." + +"Oh, very well, manage the matter your own way," said Mrs. John, rising +with a lofty air of composure. "I wash my hands of the whole matter; so +don't expect anything from me." + +"As though any one did expect anything of you," said Mrs. Tom, as she +closed the door, not very gently, after her. "Well, then, I'll write to +this General Stanfield; though I haven't much hope of anything coming +of it; and in the meantime—" + +"In the meantime I will keep Calista," said Miss Malvina. "There is no +one at my house to be disturbed by her noise, and what is enough for +one must stretch for two." + +"Oh, I'll help you all I can, and so I am sure will Samuel; and I dare +say John too, if he can do it without his wife's knowledge. I shall be +very glad if you can have her with you, for it is bad for the child's +disposition to be hushed up every minute, and poor Tom can't bear a bit +of noise when his bad spells are on." + +The letter was written and sent, and it seemed for a time as if nothing +was likely to come of it. Calista staid with Miss Malvina all winter, +learning to read and sew, and sharing the old lady's simple fare, eked +out by contributions from the cousins, and a sly dollar bill now and +then from Cousin John. When the child looked back on this winter from +her after life, it seemed to her that no fires were ever so bright and +warm as Miss Malvina's; no bread so sweet and so thickly buttered; +no, cake so delicious as the Sunday's treat of gingerbread, and that +Indian loaf (unknown, alas! to this generation) which came hot, red +and glutinous from the oven where it had staid simmering ever since +the Saturday before. In truth, the seasoning which made all Miss +Malvina's plain and economical cooking so grateful—the genuine love and +generosity—came to be sadly wanting afterward. + +With the spring, however, came a change. A middle-aged gentlewoman +appeared one day in the little town, charged with letters and +credentials from Miss Priscilla Stanfield, daughter and sole heir of +General Stanfield, of Cohansey, and empowered to take possession of the +child Calista Stanfield, and carry her home to her aunt. It appeared +from the letters brought by Miss Druett that she was the companion and +confidential friend of Miss Stanfield. + +"Then General Stanfield did not leave his son's wife anything?" said +Mrs. Tom. + +"Nothing whatever," answered Miss Druett, concisely. + +"Nor to the child?" + +"I do not know that he was even aware of the child's existence," said +Miss Druett. + +"Somebody was very much to blame if he was not!" said sharp-spoken Mrs. +Tom. "For Calista wrote to him and to Miss Priscilla when the child was +born. I know, because I posted the letters myself." + +"The mails are somewhat uncertain," said Miss Druett; "but however +that may be, the General's whole property was left to his daughter +Priscilla. Miss Stanfield wishes it understood that she does not allow +the child to have any claim on her. She is willing to take her and give +her an education befitting her father's family, but it is entirely an +act of charity on her part." + +"I would not let the child go if things were different with me," said +Miss Malvina to Mrs. Tom when the matter was talked over afterward; +"but I know I have not many months to live, and if this Miss Stanfield +gives Calista such an education as she promises, the girl can earn her +own living." + +"And Calista may come into all the property at last; who knows?" + +"She most probably will," said Mrs. John, who was assisting at the +conference. "But what are you going to do with her mother's things, +Malvina? There are all the handsome dresses and other clothes that +Father and Mother Folsom bought for her, and the presents her husband +made to her afterward. They must be as good as new. What are you going +to do with them?" + +"That matter is already settled," said Miss Malvina, calmly. "I have +turned the trunks which held poor Calista's wardrobe and other property +over to Miss Druett for the use of the child. Sophronia and I looked +them over, and repacked them with abundance of cedar and black pepper, +and locked them up again. Of course they belong to the child; and as +Miss Stanfield assumes the care and education of the orphan, she is the +fit custodian of all that appertains to her in right of her deceased +parent." + +And Miss Malvina was a little soothed, in the midst of her grief, by +thinking how neatly she had turned her long sentence. + +"Oh!" said Mrs. John, significantly, and rising at the same time. "I +am sure the child is quite welcome to all that is left of her poor +mother's things. At the same time, I must say I think I might have been +consulted, if only for form's sake." + +"You forget that you said you washed your hands of the whole concern," +said Mrs. Tom. + +"Oh, very well. I don't grudge you anything you have made of the +transaction. Good-morning." And Mrs. John sailed away, resolved to +keep a sharp look-out on Mrs. Tom's "go to meeting" clothes, so as to +challenge any article of Calista's wardrobe on its first appearance. +She was disappointed, however. + +Mrs. Tom's temper was sharpened as well as her wits by hard encounters +with adverse fortune, but, poor as she was, she would have scorned to +enrich herself at the expense of an orphan child. As to Miss Malvina, +she was so near heaven already that the richest things on earth and the +poorest looked equally small in her eyes. + + +To the little Calista, the parting with her kind old guardian and +the long journey seemed like a dreary dream, from which she woke to +find herself an inmate of the old Stanfield house, creeping about by +herself, with no mates but the animals in the farmyard, slighted and +snubbed by her aunt, treated with a sort of surly kindness by Miss +Druett, her aunt's companion and confidante, and sometimes petted and +sometimes scolded by the two old servants whom Miss Stanfield still +retained. + +Sometimes it seemed to her that her present life was a dream, and that +she should wake up to find herself in Miss Malvina's little bed-room, +under that red-and-white coverlet wrought in gorgeous patterns of +long-tailed birds pecking at berries, which she used to follow out +with her little fingers. Sometimes the past grew dream-like, and she +thought she must always have lived is the old house, saying lessons +to Miss Druett and watching the two elderly ladies playing endless +games—cribbage one evening, backgammon the next—or slipping out to the +kitchen, when, if Chloe were in a good humor, she would contrive some +kind of treat for the child, and tell her stories of the past glories +of the family, and of her handsome father when he was a boy. + + +Under such influences Calista had grown up to the age of fifteen. About +that time she left off saying her lessons to Miss Druett, and began +going to an old-fashioned ladies' school in Cohansey, the chief town in +the neighborhood. In pleasant weather she walked; when it was wet or +stormy, she rode an elderly white pony named Jeff, or sometimes drove +him in a little old chaise which Miss Priscilla had taken on a debt. + +Calista believed she owed this change to Miss Druett, and was grateful +to that lady accordingly. She liked her school and her lessons, she was +friendly with the girls, and she had made one intimate friend in the +person of Mary Settson. Then, too, she had now and then an errand to +do for her aunt, and she often had a kind word and sometimes a little +present from old Mr. Settson, the lawyer, who had had charge of General +Stanfield's business, and took an interest in poor Richard's child. + + + +CHAPTER SECOND. + +SCHOOL. + +CALISTA had not been religiously brought up. True, she attended church +once every Sunday with Miss Druett, sitting in the family pew in the +old brick church in Cohansey. At home the subject was never even +mentioned. Miss Priscilla never went to church, never read the Bible or +had family prayers, or asked a blessing at table, or acknowledged God +in any of her ways. + +Calista had found a ragged old Bible among some waste papers in the +garret, and sometimes read it for the stories when she was tired +of "Evelina" and the few odd volumes of "Camilla" and "Sir Charles +Grandison" of which she had become possessed in the same way. These +readings, the Sunday services, the prayers in school, and some faint +remembrance of Miss Malvina's teaching, kept the girl from utter +heathenism. Of personal religion, of any obligation on her own part to +a God or a Saviour, it is hardly an exaggeration to say Calista had no +more notion than her old white pony. + +She had a kind of attachment to Miss Druett, tempered by a good deal +of fear. She had begun by dreading Aunt Priscilla, and ended, I fear, +by hating her; but she was not naturally unamiable, and, as Miss +McPherson, the schoolmistress, observed, she had the making or marring +of a fine woman in her. + +"Calista!" called a somewhat harsh yet not altogether unpleasant voice, +with then a musical ring in it as of some neglected instrument. Then in +a moment—"Calista, do you mean to stand dreaming there all day? It is +time you were getting ready for school." + +"Yes, Miss Druett," replied Calista, promptly; "I am all ready, and +there is plenty of time. Where are you going?" she asked, in surprise, +as Miss Druett appeared in the door with her bonnet on. + +"I am going to drive into town with you, so don't keep me waiting, +child." + +Calista skipped lightly up the ruined steps, which looked dangerous for +anything heavier than a goat to climb. As she reached the broad flat +stone at the top, it tilted a little under her tread. + +"Take care!" said Miss Druett. + +"That stone will fall with somebody one of these days," said Calista. +"Why doesn't Aunt Priscilla have it mended?" + +"Little girls shouldn't ask questions," replied Miss Druett. + +"I am not a little girl any longer!" said Calista, her color rising a +little. "I wish I were, and then my frocks would not all be so outgrown +that I am ashamed of them." + +Miss Druett deigned no answer to this remark, but Calista was used to +having her remarks remain unanswered. She hastened away, and presently +returned equipped in her school bonnet of gray batist a good deal +the worse for wear, and carrying in one hand her school books and in +the other a work-bag—every one carried a work-bag in those days—with +the ends of knitting needles sticking out. It would be hard to find +a handsomer girl in all Cohansey than Calista Stanfield, but she +certainly owed very little to her dress. + +"Where is Aunt Priscilla?" asked Calista, as she took her place in the +queer shaky little chaise where Miss Druett was already sitting. + +"In her room," was the reply. "She is out of sorts this morning, or she +would have gone to town herself." + +Calista said no more till they were out of sight of the house. Then she +began again. + +"Miss Druett, I do wish I could have some new frocks this spring. My +best frock, that blue bombazette, is ever so much too short, and mended +in three or four places. I declare I am ashamed to be seen; there is +not a servant girl in Cohansey who goes as shabby as I do." + +Miss Druett seemed to be fully occupied in driving a fly off the pony's +back, and did not answer a word. + +"Then my Sunday bonnet is a perfect fright. It is three years old, +and not the least like what any one else wears. And it is just so in +everything," continued Calista, with growing heat as she recounted her +wrongs. "I can never have a bit of pretty work like the other girls, or +have a bit of pocket-money, or any privileges as the rest do. I think +it is too bad." + +"What do you expect me to do about it?" asked Miss Druett. + +"If aunt were as poor as Miss Malvina used to be, and had to work for +a living, I would never say a word," continued Calista. "I would work +hard, too, and earn my own clothes; but when she is so rich and laying +up money all the time, I do think it is a very hard case." + +"How do you know your aunt is laying up money all the time?" + +"Because it is always coming in and never going out," was the prompt +reply. "Don't you think I have eyes and ears, Miss Druett? Don't I know +that she gets the rents for her buildings in Philadelphia and Cohansey, +and for the farms she lets out, and the butter and hay, and so on? What +becomes of all that, if she does not lay it up?" + +"You had better ask her," rejoined Miss Druett. "And if you think the +servant girls are so much better off than yourself, you had better try +living out, and see how you like it." + +Calista's eyes flashed. "I declare I will!" said she, with sudden fire +and emphasis. "I will go to Mr. Settson this very day and ask him to +find me a place where I can work for my board and enough to clothe me. +At least I should have enough to eat, and not be taunted and insulted +every hour as I am now." + +Miss Druett turned her head and looked at Calista, who met the gaze +without flinching. She seemed to think matters had gone far enough. + +"Come, come, don't let me hear any such nonsense as that!" said she. +"If I should tell Priscilla she would turn you out of the house, and +never let you into it again." + +"Let her!" returned Calista. "I haven't had such very nice times there +that I should regret it very much." + +"Suppose your aunt had never taken you at all, do you know where you +would have been? You would have gone to the poor-house." + +"Well, suppose I had, what worse should I have been? I should have had +enough to eat and something to wear, and what more do I have now?" + +"You have your school for one thing." + +"Yes, I know I do, thanks to you. You are good to me—sometimes." + +Miss Druett smiled in a curious, sudden fashion, with flash of white +teeth and a light in her dark gray eyes under black brows and lashes, +which gave quite a new aspect to her face. + +"Then if I am good to you—sometimes—have a little patience for the sake +of those times," said she. "Don't you think I would do more for you if +I could? As for the frocks, I know you need them, and I will see what +I can bring to pass; but don't you say a word about them to your aunt. +She is in one of her bad moods to-day. Here we are, I declare. Where +will you stop?" + +"Oh, at the school-house. I suppose I must walk home. I don't mind +though; it will be cool and pleasant after five o'clock." + +It wanted half an hour of school time, but Calista found Miss +McPherson's school-room filled with girls all talking together, as it +seemed. As she entered somebody said, laughing,— + +"Catch her giving anything. You might as well ask old Miss Stanfield +herself." + +"Hush," said two or three voices, and Calista felt sure they had been +talking of her. + +"Here is Calista," said one of the girls. "How early you are! Did you +walk?" + +"No, I rode in with Miss Druett. What are you all talking about?" + +"Oh, about this new plan for furnishing the parsonage house. Haven't +you heard?" + +"Not a word. How should I?" + +"Of course she hasn't," said Belle Adair. "Well, you know Mr. and Mrs. +Lee lost all their furniture when the old parsonage was burned." + +"Yes, of course. Every one knows that." + +"Well, the ladies of the congregation are going to furnish the new +parsonage from top to bottom with linen and everything needful, and +the young ladies—Miss Jessy McPherson and Miss Alice Settson and that +set—are going to hold a fair to buy some of the bed-room furniture." + +"A fair!" repeated Calista. "What kind of a fair? I don't know what you +mean." + +"Why, a kind of sale, like the one Miss Jessy attended in Philadelphia, +for the orphans. Don't you remember that she told us about it?" + +"Oh, yes! Well, what then?" + +"Well, the young ladies are going to have one, and they have asked us +school-girls to make things for one of the tables. Miss Jessy is to +have it in charge, and two or three of us are to help her. And we are +to make all sorts of pretty and useful things for sale, and find the +materials ourselves. And I know what I am going to make, but I don't +mean to tell anybody—not yet." + +All this explanation Belle delivered with great animation and a vast +amount of gesticulation, as her fashion was. + +"You will have to tell, if we meet together for work," observed one of +the girls. "And you know that was what we proposed—to meet with Miss +Jessy, Wednesday afternoon of each week." + +"To be sure, so we did. I did not think of that, but it don't matter." + +"I think the meeting will be half the fun, don't you, Calista?" said +little Emma Adair, Belle's cousin. + +But Calista was looking for something in her desk, and did not answer. + +"I think it is very nice—all of it—only I don't see how I am to do +anything, because I have no money," said Theresa Diaments. "Somehow my +allowance is always gone before I know it." + +"Because you spend it all," returned her cousin, Antoinette, who roomed +with her. "You never go out without buying something—pins, or thread, +or pencils. You buy ten bunches of hairpins to my one." + +"Oh, yes! I dare say," remarked Belle, sarcastically enough. "We all +know how economical you are. Perhaps if you bought more pins, poor +Tessy would not need to buy so many." + +Antoinette colored deeply, and cast anything but an amiable glance at +the last speaker. + +"What will you do, Calista?" asked Belle. + +"How can I tell?" returned Calista. "I don't half understand the matter +yet. You are always in such a hurry, Belle. Where is Mary Settson?" + +"Here she comes,— + + "'Sober, steadfast and demure,'— + +"As usual," said Belle. "What are you going to make for the fair, Mary?" + +"I haven't said I was going to make anything," replied Mary, looking +annoyed, for she was not pleased with Belle's quotation. "Come out a +minute, Calista; I want to tell you something. Oh, here comes Miss +McPherson to open school! Girls, what are you about? Don't you see?" + +All the girls rose—some of them in a little confusion—to greet +their schoolmistress. Miss McPherson was a tall Scotch lady, with +silvery-white hair put up under a matronly sort of lace cap, bright +eyes, and a somewhat commanding presence. She was handsomely dressed, +as usual, in her rich black silk and white muslin handkerchief, with a +large gold watch in her belt, to which were attached a bunch of seals +and a thick gold chain of Indian workmanship. This was her invariable +costume, except that in winter she wore a soft gray shawl. She was +followed by her niece, Miss Jessy McPherson, a slim lady, not quite so +young as she had been, but still pretty and blooming, and dressed with +much more regard to the fashion than her aunt. Another teacher entered +by the opposite door, and the three took their places on the platform +at one end of the room. Miss Jessy read part of a chapter in the New +Testament, Miss McPherson made a short prayer, and then the lessons +were begun. + +Miss McPherson had been educated at one of the best schools in +Edinburgh, and finished at a Scotch convent in Paris. She had come +to America with her father at the close of the revolution. Captain +McPherson sold out his commission in the army and bought land in New +Jersey, hoping to make an estate for his daughter; but his farming was +not very successful, and he soon died. Miss McPherson, as soon as the +first desolation of her loss was over, began to look about her to see +what she was to do. + +She was not long in deciding. She sold the land which she could not +cultivate, bought a house in the growing town of Cohansey, and set up +a ladies' school. She taught French and Italian thoroughly—though, it +must be owned, with something of a Scotch accent—needle work, plain +and ornamental, flower work, feather work, and numberless other works. +She also taught the then popular art of reading, writing and spelling +the English language correctly by the aid of Mr. Lindley Murray's +"Grammar," * and some geography and history by the aid of Mr. Pinnock's +"Catechisms." She also taught—and that without extra charge—very +excellent manners and sound religion and morality, so that her school +might be considered a good one, though metaphysics formed no part of +its course, and even such an elementary and old-fashioned book as "Mrs. +B.'s Conversations on Chemistry" had never entered its walls. + + * I have seen an old school prospectus in which was advertised "The +English grammar taught by Mr. Lindley Murray's new method, with three +cases only." + +Miss McPherson prospered, or, as she would have preferred to say, "was +prospered," from the first. She was soon enabled to enlarge her house, +take a few boarders, and send for her orphan niece, Miss Jessy, who was +earning a hard living as a governess in the north of England. + +At the time of which I am writing, Miss McPherson had twelve young lady +boarders and twenty-five day scholars, and was believed to be a rich +woman. She was greatly respected in the community, and was one of the +first persons consulted in any charitable or social enterprise. She +subscribed liberally to the church, where her young ladies occupied +three pews all to themselves. She had been one of the first to propose +the building of the new parsonage house, and had given a good sum +towards it; and she was indeed a very important person in Cohansey +society. + +When the lessons were through, she tapped on her desk for attention. + +"Now, young ladies, I want you to listen to me!" said she, in her +clear, round tones. "Maria Reese, where are your hands and feet?" + +Maria's hands and feet had a way of being in the wrong place, and on +this occasion the hands were behind her back, and one foot was twisted +round the leg of her chair. Blushing scarlet, she laid her hands in her +lap, straightened up her shoulders, and drew in her chin. + +"That is much better!" said Miss McPherson. She cast a vigilant eye +over the room, and, seeing nothing more to criticise, proceeded with +her remarks. + +"No doubt you have all been discussing this plan of a fair or sale to +help in furnishing the house of our respected minister." + +She paused a moment, and Clarissa Whitecar, as the oldest girl, +answered for the rest,— + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Very well. I cannot say," continued Miss McPherson, "that the scheme +is one which I should have proposed myself. I prefer more direct ways +of accomplishing good works. However, I am aware that something is +to be said on the other side. Such a method as the present promotes +sociability, and it also affords an opportunity for those have not much +money to bestow, to give their time and their work,—it makes room for +self-denial, without which no good work is ever accomplished, and also +for the exercise of latent neatness and ingenuity. I have considered +the matter, and have also consulted with some of the respected parents +and guardians of my pupils," continued Miss McPherson, after another +little pause; "and I have come to the conclusion—Charity Latch, are you +a lady or a pincushion?" + +The young person thus addressed, a tall, overgrown-looking girl, +started violently, and hastily removed from her mouth the brass pin +with which she was furtively picking her teeth. Charity was one of +those people who never see any deficiency in themselves, and therefore +never improve. + +"I said that I have come to the conclusion to allow the young ladies to +devote the hours of afternoon school on Wednesday to working for this +object, under certain rules and restrictions, which must be remembered, +as I shall allow no departure from them. + + "First. Every young lady must provide her own working implements. + + "Second. Every piece of work must be commenced subject to the approval +of myself or Miss Jessy, who will preside in my absence. + + "Third. Every piece of work once commenced must be perfectly finished +before anything else is begun. This rule is invariable. + + "Fourth. Any young lady must be ready to do her work over again, +cheerfully and without complaint, if Miss Jessy or myself thinks it +needful. + + "Fifth. There must be no borrowing from one another without special +consent of your teacher for the time being. + +"These are all the rules I see fit to make, though I shall not hesitate +to add others if I see occasion; but I wish to add a word of advice. +Remember that in such a work as this, and done, as this ought to be, +for the praise and glory of God, there is no place for anything like +emulation or vainglory. Let each do the best she can in whatever she +undertakes, and remember that the smallest and cheapest offering given +in the right spirit is as acceptable as the most elaborate and costly +in the eyes of Him for whom this work is, or should be, done." + +Miss McPherson said these words with great earnestness, and smiled as +she saw their effect in the suddenly raised eyes and brightened face of +a plain and rather poorly-dressed girl who sat near the desk. + +"And now the young ladies may take a recess,—" recess she called it, in +her Scotch way,—"unless they have any questions to ask." + +"If you please, Miss McPherson," said Mary Settson, rising— + +"Well, Mary—take time now and consider your words." + +"Suppose one of us wishes to make something for the furnishing of the +house instead of something for the sale, can we do so?" + +"Can she do so?" corrected the schoolmistress. "Let your pronouns +agree with their antecedents, my love. Yes, certainly, there can be no +objection to that." + +"Do you think it would be better to make fancy articles or useful +things?" asked another girl. + +"I should say a judicious mixture would be best, and in any case it +would be well to avoid making your articles too costly. You can settle +all these matters in your first meeting, which will take place on +Wednesday at the usual time of afternoon school. I must add one thing: +If I find these meetings are having an unfavorable effect on your +lessons, or tending to produce heart-burning, envy, or unkindness, I +shall stop the whole thing at once. You can now take your recess, which +will be ten minutes longer than usual." + + + +CHAPTER THIRD. + +AUNT BETSY. + +THE girls were soon in the spacious play-ground, but to-day neither +skipping-rope nor battle-door had attractions for any but the younger +children. Every tongue was busy with the new plan, which was talked +over in all its bearings. Pincushions and needle work, satin stitch and +cross stitch, rug work, cut work, flowers, veils, ruffles, knitting, +and netting, all were discussed at once. + +"I shall work a piece," said Antoinette, with decision. "I saw a lovely +one at my cousin's, in Greenwich—a shepherdess, with her crook, and +some sheep and lambs, with their wool all done in French knots with +white chenille and gray floss. The shepherdess has on a blue silk gown +with real gold spangles. Oh, it is lovely!" + +"Yes, and so sweetly natural—a blue silk spangled gown to tend sheep +in!" said Belle Adair. "I wonder they did not spangle the sheep too: it +would have been about as sensible." + +"Just as if that had anything to do with it!" rejoined Antoinette, +scornfully. "Any how, I am going to do it—if Miss Jessy will let me, I +mean." + +"But that will take so long, and be so expensive," remarked Tessy; "and +if it should not sell after all, you will lose your labor." + +"No, I sha'n't, because I should have the picture anyhow, and as for +money, I have all my last quarter's allowance." + +"Then you can pay me the three shillings you borrowed of me the last +time the peddler was here," said Tessy. "I want some money, and I +haven't a bit." + +"I haven't any change," returned Antoinette, "and I don't want to break +a bill for such a little thing as that." + +"You never do have any change, do you, Antoinette?" asked Belle Adair, +innocently. Then, as Antoinette did not answer: "If I were you, Tessy, +I wouldn't have any change either." + +"Well, she does get all my change away," said poor Tessy, half crying, +as Antoinette walked away. "She is always saying, 'Oh, Tessy, just lend +me a penny,' or 'Just let me have a sixpence, will you?' But if I ask +her for anything, she never has it. It is just so with other things. +She uses my pins, and needles, and hairpins, so that half the time I +don't have any for myself, and then Miss Meeks scolds me, and says, +'Look at Antoinette, she is never unprovided.' Good reason why she +isn't." + +"You must just learn to say no," said Belle Adair. + +"But it seems so mean to refuse such little things." + +"It is not so mean to refuse as it is to be sponging for little +things," returned Belle, with some justice; "and that is what +Antoinette is always doing. The other day, when she began her bead +chain, she came to me to know if I had any thread. I told her I had, +but did not offer to lend her any. Then she asked me for it straight +out, and I told her I wanted my thread myself, and that Miss Jessy had +plenty." + +"But you gave me a whole nice skein that very day," observed little +Emma. + +"Yes, because I knew you would pay me, and I did not want you to get +into disgrace for forgetting. You are not a sponge, though you are a +heedless little puss, and want your ears pinched every day," and Belle +suited the action to the word by administering a gentle pinch to the +little rosy ear. + +"If she would only ask, I wouldn't care so much," said Tessy, "but she +just helps herself to anything of mine she wants." + +"Well, I know what I would do if I were you," said Emma. "I wouldn't +have any money." + +"What do you mean, Emma?" asked Tessy. + +"Why, Miss McPherson gives you your allowance every month, doesn't she?" + +"Yes, of course." + +"Well, I would ask her to keep it for me, and just go to her when I +wanted any money to use. Then when Antoinette wants to borrow, you can +tell her the truth, that you haven't any. Besides, you won't be nearly +so apt to spend money if you have to ask Miss McPherson every time; and +you know, Tessy, you are rather extravagant," concluded Emma, with a +quaint little air of wisdom. + +"But perhaps Miss McPherson won't want to be troubled," objected Tessy. + +"She won't mind, if you tell her the reason why. Of course you need not +mention Antoinette, but you can just say that you know you are apt to +throw away your money, and you want to save it for a special purpose." + +"What a wise young woman—'a Daniel come to judgment!'" said Belle, who +had been reading Shakespeare. + +"But really, Tessy, I think this plan an excellent one. Antoinette +should not be indulged in such ways, if only for her own sake. If she +were poor, it would be different, but I imagine her father is quite as +rich as yours." + +"Yes, indeed. Well, Emma, I believe I will try this plan of yours. But +what shall I do in the mean time? I thought I would knit some curtains, +but I haven't even money to buy the cotton." + +"You say Antoinette owes you three shillings?" + +"She owes me four and sixpence in all." + +"Trust to me, Tessy. I'll get it out of her. She is a little too bad." + +Meantime Calista and her friend, Mary Settson, were walking up and down +under the trees at one side of the play-ground. Calista's black brows +were frowning, and she looked vexed and mortified. + +"I wish I had never come to school at all," said she, vehemently. +"Something is always coming up to make we feel what a miserable, +dependent wretch I am." + +"Don't use such words, Calista," said Mary. + +"They are true words, and why shouldn't I use them?" + +"But don't you believe your aunt will let you do anything? I should +think she would give you a little money if you ask her in the right +time and way." + +"Much you know about it. I tell you, Mary, I might just as well expect +gold to rain down out of that cloud. The cloud will give me a wetting +when I go home, and Aunt Priscilla will give me a scolding, and that is +all I shall get from either of them." + +"Oh, I forgot," said Mary. "Papa asked Miss Druett to let you stay all +night with us, and she said you might. So we will have a good time, and +I will teach you to knit the feather stitch that Miss Jessy showed me." + +Calista's frown relaxed a little. "Your father is very kind, I am sure; +but, Mary, I declare I am ashamed to go." + +"Why?" + +"My frock is so shabby for one thing, and you and Miss Alice are always +so neat." + +"Nonsense!" + +"And besides, you are always inviting me, and I never can ask you." + +"Nonsense!" said Mary again. "Just as if we did not know how things +were. I am glad, because I think perhaps papa will contrive some way to +help us out of this scrape." + +Calista shook her head. "You don't know Aunt Priscilla as I do. Why, +Mary, grandfather's monument is actually falling down for want of a +little money laid out in repairs. I haven't much reason to be obliged +to General Stanfield," continued Calista, rather as if thinking aloud, +"but I believe the very first thing I do when I have the place will be +to put that graveyard in order." + +Mary looked annoyed in her turn. + +"I would not think so much about that if I were you, Calista," said +she. "You are not sure that the place will ever be yours. Miss +Priscilla can leave it to whom she pleases, you know." + +"What would you think about it if you were in my place?" demanded +Calista, rather fiercely. "Come, Mary, tell me something agreeable in +my affairs to think about." + +"Well, here is the school and Miss McPherson." + +"Miss McPherson is just as good and kind as she can be," admitted +Calista, "and the school is pleasant, and I like my lessons; but even +here Aunt Priscilla annoys me all the time. Something is forever coming +up to remind me how dependent and helpless I am. Aunt Priscilla won't +let me have a bit of fancy work, or take music lessons, or have a penny +to spend on any of the girls' little frolics." + +"Was that the reason you did not go to the gipsy party?" + +"Of course it was. I had nothing to carry." + +"But, Calista, you know—" + +"Oh, yes, I know. Miss Alice would have made something for me, but I +wouldn't have that. I may be a pauper, but I won't be a beggar and a +sponge like—some folks," casting a glance, as she spoke, at Antoinette, +who was passing. + +"Well, any how, Calista, you can make the most of what lessons you +have, and when you are a little older you can find a place as teacher +somewhere and support yourself. And, besides," said Mary, lowering +her voice a little, "you might have something else if you would. You +might be looking forward to an inheritance that would never fade nor +disappoint you." + +Calista made an impatient movement. + +"So you say, and I believe you really think so, but all that is nothing +to me. It has no reality in it to my mind. Aunt Priscilla does not +believe in any such thing. She believes in the French philosophers, and +Voltaire and Rousseau are about the only authors she reads." + +"And you have a great respect for Miss Priscilla's opinion, of course," +returned Mary, with a little touch of sarcasm. "It is quite natural you +should be governed by it." + +Calista laughed. "It would be a reason for thinking the other way if I +wanted one, which I don't. But somehow religion has no reality for me. +I wouldn't have Miss McPherson hear me say so, but it is no more real +to me than the Greek mythology in Magnall's questions." + +"I suppose that is the way with a good many people, if they had the +honesty to own it," remarked Mary, thoughtfully; "at least to judge by +their actions. But now tell me, Calista, are not all your best friends +Christians? I have often heard you speak of Miss Malvina; was not she a +Christian?" + +"Yes, indeed she was, dear old soul!" + +"And is not Miss McPherson one, and Miss Jessy, and my father, and +Alice?" + +"Very true, my dear, not to mention yourself. As to Miss Druett, if any +one can tell what she is, they must be wiser than I am." + +"Miss Druett is good to you, isn't she?" + +"Yes, in a kind of way. She is so sharp and sarcastic that she puts +me in a rage ten times a week; but everything good that I get comes +through her." + +"Well, wouldn't she do something for you in this matter?" + +"Very likely she would if she could, but she can't. I told her this +morning that I wanted some new frocks, and she said she would get me +some if possible, but that I must not speak to Aunt Priscilla about it. +I tell you, Mary, you have no idea what she is in one of her bad moods. +It is like living with a wild animal or an evil spirit." + +"The more reason why you should qualify yourself to earn your own +living as soon as possible. But there is the bell. By the way, will you +go to Aunt Hannah's with me after school? I have to carry her a message +about the towels she is weaving for Alice." + + +Aunt Hannah Parvin and her sister, Aunt Betsy, lived in a curious old +wooden house on the outskirts of the town. + +"Come in, come in," said Aunt Betsy. "I suppose, Mary, thee has come +about the yarn; and who is this with thee? I ought to know her, but I +can't call her by name." + +"Surely it is Richard Stanfield's daughter," said Aunt Hannah, +appearing at the door. "I never saw a greater likeness between a father +and child. Come in, children. I have been expecting thee, Mary." + +Aunt Hannah, though the younger of the two old ladies, was much the +most staid and precise in her appearance. Her plain gray gown, made in +the simplest fashion, was without a wrinkle; her muslin handkerchief +and close cap white as snow. She was very pretty with the exquisite +delicacy of complexion which "Friends" are so apt to possess and +preserve—thanks to their shady, sensible headgear. Her hair, with still +a golden shine in it here and there, lay in satin-like bands over her +serene forehead, and her large gray eyes looked like the very abode of +peace. + +Aunt Betsy's hair, on the contrary, would wave, and crinkle, and break +away into rebellious little curls round her face and under her cap; her +dress, though spotlessly clean, was worn with quite a different air +from her sister's, and her complexion showed traces of free exposure to +the sun. + +"Sister Betsy, how thee is burned with the sun!" said Aunt Hannah, in a +tone of mild reproof. "Why won't thee keep thy sunbonnet on?" + +"Because I can't see as well with it, Sister Hannah, and, besides, I +like to feel the sun. What does it matter for an old woman like me?" + +Aunt Hannah sighed gently. "Well, Betsy, thee will always be thyself to +the end." + +"Would thee want me to be any one else, Hannah?" + +Aunt Hannah smiled, and turned to the girls. + +"I suppose, Mary, thee has come about the towels. Has Alice decided +upon the pattern?" + +"No, Aunt Hannah; she told me to say she would leave it to you, and +then she should be sure to like it." + +"Very well. I will bring down all my patterns for you both to look at, +and meantime my sister will find you some refreshments." + +"To be sure," said the elder lady. "I had a notion thee would come +to-day, Mary, and so I baked a sweet-potato pie and some gingerbread. +Just sit down and take your bonnets off. Oh, yes, of course you will +stay to tea. Alice won't mind, Mary. She knows I always keep thee to +tea." + +The girls suffered themselves to be persuaded, and laying aside their +bonnets, they sat down by the open window, while Aunt Betsy set her +table and brought out her beautiful old china—a set of thin "blue and +white," which would set any modern "Ceramical Club" into a fever of +rapture. + +"What pretty china!" said Calista, admiring the egg-shell cups and the +sugar-basin with its gilt pineapples. + +"Why, thy folks have some just like it, or ought to have," said +Aunt Betsy. "I remember thy mother—I mean thy grandmother—bought a +set in Philadelphia the very day I bought this. Dear, dear! What a +pretty creature she was, and how the old General doted on her and her +curly-headed boy! Poor Richard!" + +"You knew my father then," said Calista, much interested. + +"Oh, yes. I knew all thy family. Thy grandma used often to come and +see me and bring thy father, when he was a little boy. She had him in +very good order too, but after she was gone, thy grandfather never +controlled him. Hannah often used to tell the old gentleman he was +wrong to indulge the child so. I well remember the very last time the +General was here. He had stopped one day some weeks before and spoken +about Richard, how he had disappointed him; and says Hannah—thee sees +she is never afraid to say what she thinks right—says she,— + +"'Richard Stanfield, is thee going to cast off thy son because he is +what thy indulgence has made him? Where is the justice of that?' + +"'There is something in what you say, Hannah,' said he. 'I'll just +think it over.' + +"Some three or four weeks after, he was just coming home from a +journey, and he stopped again, and says he,— + +"'Well, Hannah, I have done justice to poor Dick, I think. I have +altered my will, and left the old place to him, and to his children if +he has any.'" + +"Then grandfather did leave the place to my father after all!" said +Calista, her eyes flashing and her color changing, as it was apt to do +under any excitement. + +"He certainly said so—I am quite sure of that," said Aunt Betsy. "I +suppose he must have altered his will again, or Miss Priscilla would +not have come into everything. Sometimes I have thought maybe she only +has the care of the place till thee comes of age. Thee never heard thy +father say anything about it I suppose, Mary?" + +"No," replied Mary. "Only he said once, he hoped Calista would make the +most of her schooling, so as to be independent by and by." + +"Yes, but that might have meant that he wished her to be able to look +after her own property," argued Aunt Betsy. "I suppose Priscilla never +tells thee anything about it, Calista." + +"Not she!" answered Calista. "She never speaks to me at all if she can +help it." + +"Priscilla is peculiar—she always was; but no doubt she means to do +right, though she always did sit too close to the world," observed +Aunt Hannah, who had come down just in time to hear the end of the +conversation; "she was very closely and strictly kept by her mother, +and I suppose she thinks it is the best way." + +"I was telling Calista about what her grandfather said the last time he +was here," observed Aunt Betsy, as she set a jug of rich cream on the +table. + +"I wouldn't think too much about it, Calista," said Aunt Hannah, +looking a little annoyed. + +"But grandfather did say that—I mean, that he had given the old place +to my father and his children?" asked Calista. + +"Oh, yes, there is no doubt of that; but I suspect he altered matters +afterwards." + +"He hadn't much time to alter them, for he died in a few days," said +Aunt Betsy. "I remember it well. I went out that very afternoon wetting +down some linen I had bleaching on the grass, when I saw Cassius, your +grandfather's servant, riding by as hard as he could go on the old gray. + +"'Anything the matter, Cassius?' says I. + +"'Yes,' says he, 'the old gentleman's taken very bad. I believe myself +he's dead!' says he, and the tears rolled down his black face, for he +was very fond of his master; 'but, anyhow, I'm going for the doctor.' + +"Presently I saw old Doctor Elsmore riding by, and the next thing I +heard the old gentleman was dead, sure enough. Don't thee remember, +Hannah? Thee said,— + +"'Well, I am glad I freed my mind to him, anyhow.'" + +"I remember," said Hannah. + +"Was that before I was born?" asked Calista. + +"Oh, no. Thee must have been—let's see. How old is thee now?" + +"I shall be sixteen in July." + +"Then thee must have been about four years old when thy grandfather +died." + +"We won't talk about it any more," said Aunt Hannah, interposing with a +glance of gentle authority at her sister. "Doubtless it was all ordered +for the best." + +"I just want to ask one question," said Calista. "What became of +Cassius? Is he dead?" + +"Oh no. I saw him last week. He was a careful fellow, and had saved +money, and after his master's death, he bought quite a piece of new +land on the river road, near the house thy grandfather gave him. Thee +must have seen the place—a low, broad house, with a very large thorny +acacia growing over it." + +"I have never been over that road," said Calista. + +"No! Well, I wonder at that! It is a very little longer than this, but +much pleasanter, especially in summer, though it is rather lonely." + +"So that is the reason aunt told me not to go by the river road," +thought Calista. "I declare I will the very next time I drive home." + +Aunt Hannah again interposed with her bundle of patterns, and the +subject was dropped. + +But, as they were returning home, Calista adverted to it again. + +"Do you suppose, Mary, that the place really was left to me, and that +Aunt Priscilla is keeping me out of it?" + +"No," answered Nary; "I am quite sure I have heard my father say that +nobody knew Mr. Stanfield had a child, till Miss Druett brought you +home. But if you want to know about the matter, you had better ask +father himself. Only, Calista, if I were you, I would try not to think +so much about money. If you are not careful, you will come to be as +fond of it as poor Miss Priscilla herself." + +"I don't think I am fond of money," said Calista, looking a little +offended. + +"But you do think about it a great deal, Calista; you cannot deny that." + +"And wouldn't you if you were in my place?" + +"I should be tempted to, no doubt," said Mary, honestly; "but I should +try not to give way to it, because I should not feel it right." + +"Why not?" + +"Because covetousness is sin," returned Mary. "The Bible says +covetousness is idolatry (Col. 3:5); and speaks of 'the covetous, whom +God abhorreth' (Ps. 10:3); and our Lord himself bids us 'take heed, +and beware of covetousness: for a man's life consisteth not in the +abundance of the things which he possesseth' (Luke 12:15). Moreover, +we are told not to love the world, neither the things which are in the +world, because if any man love the world, the love of the Father is not +in him (1 John 2:15)." + +"If you were in my place, you couldn't help thinking about it," +persisted Calista, "any more than you could help thinking about food if +you didn't have enough to eat." + +"I suppose Miss Priscilla thinks she can't help it either." + +"I am much obliged to you, Mary, for comparing me to Miss Priscilla!" +said Calista, with offended stiffness. "I didn't know, before, what a +good opinion you had of me." + +"Now you are unreasonable, Calista, and I sha'n't answer you." + +"But about this matter of grandfather's will: do you think it is +unreasonable in me to want to know the truth about it?" + +"No, I don't, especially after what you have heard, and if I were you, +I would ask papa; only, Calista, don't build upon it." + +But Calista could not help building upon it. She had no opportunity of +asking Judge Settson about the matter, for company came in to spend the +evening, and the next day he was called away out of town. But Calista +held firmly to her purpose. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTH. + +CASSIUS. + +THE school was closed rather earlier than usual next day, and Calista +walked home. She hesitated for a moment when she came to the place +where the two roads divided, and then took the lower road, which +ran near the bank of the river, and a good deal of the way through +oak-scrub and deserted clearings. Calista had been used to walking to +and from the village alone for half a dozen years, but it cannot be +denied that she felt a little nervous as she went on for one stretch of +the road after another, meeting nobody and seeing no human habitation. +What if she should meet with wild hogs or cattle? Or, worse still, with +some of the more than half-wild "pine rats," who were to be found here +and there in the wilderness which thus stretched a great part of the +way from Cohansey River to the Atlantic Ocean. + +"Pshaw, what a goose I am!" she said to herself impatiently, as she +found herself starting at a sudden rustle in the bushes. "I haven't +anything worth stealing, and I don't believe any one would want to hurt +me." + +Nevertheless she felt a thrill of uncomfortable fear as a man pushed +his way through the bushes, carrying a gun and followed by a large dog, +and she was not a little relieved when the new-comer proved to be a +negro, who touched his hat civilly as he said good-afternoon. + +"This is the road to the Mills, is it not?" asked Calista, returning +the old man's greeting. + +"Yes, Miss, this is one road." Then, as he walked along by her side, he +said, with a little hesitation, "Beg pardon, Missy, but isn't this the +old General Stanfield's grandchild?" + +"Yes; I am General Stanfield's grandchild, the daughter of Mr. Richard +Stanfield. Did you know my father?" + +"Reckon I did," said the man, taking off his hat and bowing again. +"Many's the time I've rode your pa on my back, and took him out fishing +on the creek. I was with your grandpa through great part of the old +war, and all the time afterward till he died. He was a fine old +gentleman, and I wouldn't never have left him, but I couldn't run with +Miss Priscy after he was gone; so I bought a piece of land and set up +farming for myself." + +"And how do you get on?" asked Calista, much interested. + +"Oh, first-rate," answered Cassius, cheerfully. "We's had our ups and +downs, of course. I've been laid up with the rheumatiz some, and the +old woman has her poor spells, but we rub on. I sell a good deal of +truck in the village; and we keep lots of chickens, and ducks, and +geese. Then I fish and shoot some in the season—I've got a real nice +boat—and altogether we make out to lay up a little against the hour of +need. For the rest, why we has food and raiment, and we's learned to be +therewith content, as the good Book says." + +"Have you any children?" asked Calista. + +"Only two boys, Missy. They's both doing well; one's living out in +Princeton, and one in Philadelphia; both in nice gentlemen's families. +We had two nice girls, but the Lord took them both. His will be done." +And the old man lifted his hat again. + +"That was hard on you," said Calista. + +"Yes, it did seem hard, Missy; but He knew best. I tell my old woman +they's just as much ours as ever they was, only the Lord's keeping them +for us. Won't you stop in a minute and see Sally? She'll be dreadful +glad to see you." + +"I am afraid I ought not to stop to-night, Cassius," replied Calista, +looking, with rather longing eyes, at the neat little house, where +stood Sally in the cleanest of turban handkerchiefs and aprons, +curtseying, and showing her white teeth in a smile of welcome. "But +I mean to come and see you some time. I should like to hear about my +father." + +Sally was not to be cheated, however. She came down to the gate to +speak to Calista; gave her a handful of lilies-of-the-valley, from her +neat flower garden, and insisted on filling her basket with delicate, +fresh-baked ginger-nuts, which Calista would have refused. + +"Please do take 'em, Missy," said Sally. "I know young ladies is fond +of ginger-nuts, and it ain't every one that can make 'em like me, +though I say it that shouldn't." + +She emptied her plate into Calista's basket, and then said something +in an undertone to her husband, of which Calista only caught the words +"Old Zeke." + +"I'm a-going," said Cassius. + +"Well, Missy, I won't urge you to stay, as it's growing late; and young +ladies of good family shouldn't ought to be out in lonesome places +after sundown. I've got to go your way a piece, so I'll just see you +past the woods." + +"What did Sally say?" asked Calista, as they walked on together. + +"Oh, she was speaking about an old fellow that hangs about here +sometimes; they call him Old Zeke. I don't really suppose he'd do you +any harm; but he's a rough customer, and might scare you. And if you'll +excuse the freedom, Missy, I wouldn't come this way unless you are +driving. It's rather too lonesome a road for a young lady; and some +of these pine rats is apt to be hanging round, fishing or something. +There's Zeke now. Don't be scared, Missy, he won't hurt you." + +Calista looked up, and as she confronted the old man, she was glad she +had not encountered him alone. + +He was a very tall and powerful man, a good deal bent, with a shock +of grizzled hair that fell on his shoulders, and shaggy brows, under +which looked out a pair of fierce light-blue eyes. He was dressed in +an indescribable mass of rags and tatters; but over his shoulder he +carried a good, serviceable looking gun. + +"Evening, Zeke," said Cassius, good-naturedly. + +The old man returned a surly sort of nod, and honored Calista with a +fixed stare, which lasted till a turn of the road hid him from sight. + +"That's a queer old fellow," said Calista. "I am glad I did not meet +him alone." + +"Well, I don't reckon he would have hurt you—indeed, I can't say as he +ever hurt any one; but he is a queer body, as you say, Missy, and his +wife is queerer still, if all tales are true. The folks round here do +say that they know more than they've got any business to." + +"More about what?" asked Calista. + +"Oh, they say the old folks are in league with spirits and that they +know how to find treasures, and lost money, and so on." + +"I should not think they could have found much, to judge from his +appearance," said Calista. + +Cassius laughed. "Well, you can't always tell from the outside who +has money and who hasn't, but I believe it is true that they do spend +a good deal of time seeking for the money that folks say the pirates +buried along the creek here in the time of the old French war. Old Mrs. +Tyerson began talking to me about it one day, but says I,— + +"'You go along with your pirates and their money. Suppose'n you did +find it, 'twould be bloody gold, and never bring you nothing but ill +luck,' says I. 'Don't covet an evil covetousness to your house, Sister +Tyerson,' says I. 'Let Old Zeke and his spells alone. I don't want his +money. I've got enough to eat and drink and wear, and something to give +to my Master besides, and when you've got that, it ain't money, nor the +want of money, that makes folks well off or bad off,' says I." + +"But money is a good thing," said Calista, struck with the old man's +remarks. + +"It is a good thing when it comes with the blessing of God, and in the +right way, Missy," said Cassius, solemnly. "So is everything else. +But when it comes any other way, it is nothing but a curse and a +judgment. Well, here we are within sight of the house, so I'll bid you +good-night." + +"Good-night, and thank you, Cassius. I shall come and see you again +some time when I have the horse." + +Calista hastened homeward, and entering at the back door, ran up +stairs to her room without meeting any one. She hid away her basket of +ginger-nuts in a safe place, brushed her hair, and went down stairs. + +"Now for it!" said she as she put her hand on the lock of the parlor +door. "I wonder what kind of mood she is in?" + +Miss Priscilla and Miss Druett had apparently just taken their seats at +the tea-table. + +Miss Priscilla was a small, delicate woman, with a trim, upright +figure, reddish-brown hair, hardly touched with gray, and greenish +hazel eyes. She was dressed neatly, though with the utmost plainness, +and would have been pretty but for her eager, suspicious expression, +and the nervous restlessness of her eyes, which seemed not to be still +for a moment. As Aunt Chloe said, Priscilla looked as if she saw +ghosts, or was afraid she should see them. Her greeting to Calista was +characteristic. + +"Well, what has brought you home now? I didn't expect to see you +till after supper. You would have had plenty of time to walk home +afterwards." + +"She is late enough as it is," observed Miss Druett, not unkindly. "Get +yourself a plate, Calista; Chloe has not provided one for you." + +Calista did not answer either observation. She brought herself a plate +and knife, accepted the cup of tea Miss Druett handed her, and helped +herself to a slice of bread and some butter. A small dish of fried fish +stood at Miss Priscilla's plate, and there was nothing else on the +table. + +"Oh, don't be bashful!" said Miss Priscilla, in a bitterly sarcastic +tone. "Take all the butter on the plate, do. Perhaps you would like +some of my fish?" + +A spark of fun gleamed in Calista's eyes. + +"Thank you, aunt; since you are so kind, I won't hurt your feelings +by refusing. My walk has given me an appetite." And she coolly helped +herself to the smallest of the fish. + +Miss Priscilla looked helplessly irritated at seeing herself taken at +her word, and regaining possession of the dish, she hastily set it on +the other side of her plate. + +Miss Druett suppressed a smile, and shook her head at Calista. + +"Well, and what is going on in town?" asked Miss Druett, presently. +"Haven't you any news to tell us?" + +"There is a good deal going on in one way," said Calista. "The ladies +are all very busy about this fair for furnishing the new parsonage +house." + +"Rubbish!" said Miss Priscilla. + +"The girls are all going to work for it," continued Calista. "Miss +McPherson gives them Wednesday afternoon, and they are each to make +something for the sale." + +"Oh," said Miss Priscilla, with an unusually polite display of +interest, "that seems a very nice plan of Miss McPherson's. I suppose +she furnishes the materials?" + +"Of course she furnishes the materials for most of the girls' work. She +buys all their silks and crewels, and so on, in Philadelphia." + +"And makes a good profit on them, no doubt. Trust a Scotch woman for +that." + +"I don't know how that is," replied Calista. "She wanted Mr. Clapp to +keep fine working materials, but he said the profit was not worth the +risk and trouble. He does keep netting, thread, and silk, and a few +other things." + +"Oh," said Miss Priscilla, again; "and what part do you intend to take +in this notable display of industry and charity?" + +Calista made no answer, but passed her cup for some more tea. + +"One cup of tea is enough for a girl like you," said Miss Priscilla. +"Do you hear me, Druey? I say one cup is enough." + +"Nonsense!" was the reply. "Let the child have her tea. I am sure it is +not strong enough to hurt her." + +And she coolly filled the cup and returned it to Calista. + +"Oh, very well; of course it is for you to say. Perhaps, Miss Calista +Stanfield, you will condescend to answer my question. What part are you +intending to take in this matter?" + +"That is for you to say, Aunt Priscilla," replied Calista, in unruffled +good humor. "You know very well that I have nothing of my own. I +thought if I had some fine knitting cotton, I might knit a bureau +cover, or something of that sort." + +"Oh! And how much might this same fine knitting cotton cost?" + +"About a quarter of a dollar, I suppose; perhaps thirty or forty cents." + +"Oh, indeed! Then I can tell you, Miss Calista Stanfield, you will +have no twenty-five or thirty cents to spend on any such purpose. +Twenty-five or thirty cents, indeed! Why not ask at once for +twenty-five or thirty dollars?" + +"I might about as well, I suppose," said Calista. "I should not have +mentioned the matter at all if you had not asked me." + +"Don't be pert, miss. I suppose you want to show off your charity at my +expense; but you must make up mind to be mortified for once." + +"For once!" thought Calista. But she said, cheerfully: "Oh, it won't +mortify me at all, Aunt Priscilla. All the girls will know that it is +your doing and not mine, and so will every one else." + +"You might let the child have a little money for once," said Miss +Druett. + +"Money indeed! You talk as if I were made of money!" said Miss +Priscilla. "Money to furnish the parsonage! Let Mr. Lee furnish his own +parsonage. Money indeed! Money!" + +The party relapsed into silence, which was maintained till Chloe came +to take the tea-things. + +Miss Priscilla, with her own hands, carefully removed some +infinitesimal particles of butter from the plates and replaced them on +the dish. + +"There is enough for your supper and David's," said she, anxiously. +"You won't need to use any more." + +Chloe sniffed the air contemptuously, but made no reply. + +"What made you so late coming home?" asked Miss Druett. + +"I came by the river road," replied Calista. + +"Why did you do that? It is longer and very lonely." + +"Yes, I know, and I don't think I shall try it again; at least on foot." + +"Did you see anybody?" + +"Yes, I saw old Cassius and his wife, and had quite a talk with him." + +"Cassius—what about Cassius?" asked Miss Priscilla. + +"Nothing, aunt, only I was saying I saw him and had a little talk with +him." + +"I won't have you talking with every one you meet," said Miss +Priscilla, sharply; "you are just such another as your father—hail +fellow, well met, with half the vagabonds in the country." + +"I should not call Cassius a vagabond," said Calista, too much +accustomed to Miss Priscilla's remarks about her father to mind them +as another girl would. "He has a nice little farm, with everything +comfortable about him, and seems as contented as the day is long. But I +did meet a vagabond, Miss Druett," said Calista; "the queerest-looking +old fellow I ever saw. Cassius calls him Old Zeke. He says the old man +and his wife are treasure-seekers, and know more than they ought to. +Do you know anything about him, Miss Druett?" she asked, seeing, or +fancying, that Miss Druett looked uneasy. + +"A little," replied Miss Druett. "He used to hang about here, years +ago. He and his wife are miserable cheats and impostors. I hope poor +Cassius is not taken in by him." + +"I should say there was no danger," said Calista. "Cassius says that, +even if they did find the pirate's money, it would be bloody gold and +would bring ill luck; and besides, he has enough without it." + +"Has he? He must be rich, then!" + +"I don't think it always takes riches to make people contented," +observed Calista; "just see Miss Hannah and Miss Betsy, how happy they +are!" + +"So they ought to be—such prices as they ask for their weaving and +spinning," said Miss Priscilla. "What do you know about them, pray?" + +"I went with Mary to see them about some towels they are weaving for +Miss Alice, and they asked us to stay to tea." + +"Oh, Miss Alice is too fine a lady to do her own spinning, I suppose!" + +"Not at all, aunt. Miss Alice spins beautifully fine thread, but she +sends it to Miss Hannah to be woven. She is having a set of towels made +of her own spinning for the new parsonage." + +"Oh, she is! And you tell of it, thinking I will be moved to do the +like." + +"Not at all, aunt. I never thought of such a thing." + +Miss Priscy muttered something about sly minxes, as she sank back in +her chair for the nap she always took between her early tea and her +game of cribbage or backgammon. + +Calista waited till her eyes were closed, and then addressed herself in +a low tone to Miss Druett. + +"Do you know anything about these people—Zeke and his wife?" + +"Why should you think I know anything about them?" said Miss Druett, +answering, as she often did, one question by another. + +"I thought you looked so." + +"You are a sharp observer. Yes, I have known something about them." + +"Do they really set up for supernatural knowledge, and all that sort of +thing?" + +"They really do, and perhaps believe a little in their own devices, +though I hold them to be miserable swindlers and cheats. They have done +mischief enough in these parts before now. I am very sorry to hear that +they have appeared again. Their father was in the same way, and it was +said that he did really discover a sum of money. It was quite true that +he went to Philadelphia, and was seen there dressed like a gentleman +and spending a great deal. But his prosperity did not last long. He +spent all he had, and the next any one knew, he was back again living +in his hole on the river bank. Zeke and his wife Jael were acquainted +with your aunt at one time, and had anything but a good influence upon +her. I should be sorry to have her fall in with them again." + +Miss Druett said these words in a low whisper. + +"You don't mean to say that she engaged with them in any +treasure-seeking!" + +Miss Druett nodded. + +"How perfectly absurd! Especially for one who does not pretend to +believe in anything." + +"There is nothing strange in that. A great many people believe in +witchcraft who don't believe in the Bible. You can see how very unlucky +it would be for her to fall in with them again." + +"Yes, indeed. I am sorry I mentioned seeing the old man. He is a +horrid-looking object. I should not like to meet him alone." + +"You must never run the risk," said Miss Druett. "I am very glad old +Cassius was with you." + +"Have you done anything about my frocks?" asked Calista, after a little +silence. + +"Not yet, but I hope to." + +"I need some books," said Calista. "Miss McPherson says I must have a +dictionary and grammar, and a book to write exercises in." + +"Then you may tell Miss McPherson that you won't have anything of +the sort!" said Miss Priscilla, rousing herself and speaking with a +sharpness and suddenness which made Calista start. "You have had books +enough already. Always something to extort money. I won't let you go to +school another day. You shall stay at home and work for a living, and +save me the expense of a servant, instead of going to school all day +and then coming home and sitting for an hour with your hands before you +doing nothing. I say you shall not go to school another day." + +"Very well, aunt," replied Calista, coolly. She had heard the threat +too often to be alarmed at it. + +"Nonsense!" said Miss Druett, in her trenchant way. + +"Get the backgammon board, Calista, and tell Chloe to bring candles." + +Calista did so, and then betook herself to her own room. It was +anything but a sumptuous apartment. There had once been a handsome +paper on the walls, but it was stained with damp and hanging loose +in some places. The pieces of carpet by the bedside and before the +glass were trodden into shreds despite Calista's mending, and the +bed covering was old and faded. Forlorn as the room was, it was +Calista's only place of refuge, and she had done her best to make it +look pleasant. The floor was clean and the old furniture well dusted. +Calista's few books were neatly disposed on the mantlepiece. The +window, which looked to the east, was open, and a full flood of yellow +moonlight poured in at it. A mocking-bird was singing in the pine trees +which bordered one side of the old graveyard, and frogs and beetles +piped a not unmelodious chorus. Calista drew a chair into the deep +window recess and sat down, leaning her arm on the sill. + +"How lovely it all is!" said she to herself. "If Judge Settson or even +Aunt Hannah had this place, what a paradise they would make of it! As +for Aunt Priscilla, she might as well be in the poor-house as here +for all the comfort she takes or lets any one else take. I wonder if +it really is religion that makes the difference. To be sure there is +Antoinette Diaments—she pretends to be a Christian, and she is as mean +as Aunt Priscilla in a different way. But, then, she is only one. + +"I verily believe it is as Mary says, that it is not money that spoils +people, but the love of it. If I thought it would make me like Aunt +Priscilla, I am sure I would never think of being rich again. Oh dear, +how hungry I am!" + +And then Calista bethought herself of Sally's basket of ginger-nuts, +and, taking them from their concealment, she made a hearty supper. The +spicy gingerbread made her thirsty, and taking her cracked jug she went +down to the well for some water. As she was drinking from the bucket, +she saw that her handkerchief had fallen from the window. As she went +to pick it up, she heard Miss Druett say inside,— + +"You might let her have some new frocks and a little money for this +work nonsense. I tell you, Priscilla, you are making yourself the town +talk, and if you push the child to the wall, she will rebel." + +"I can't," said Miss Priscilla. "I shall die in the poor-house." + +"You might let her have her mother's things, at least. She has a right +to them, and she is quite old enough—" + +Calista heard no more, for a movement within awoke to the fact that it +would not be well for her to be caught listening, and she hastened back +to her room. She had heard enough to give her food for reflection and +wonder. + +Her mother's things! What did Miss Druett mean? She went back to her +childish days when she lived with Miss Malvina, and tried to recall +everything that the old lady had said to her. There was a vision +floating before her of some boxes carefully put away, and of Miss +Malvina showing her several things, and especially a beautiful book, +and saying something about her dear mother. But think as she could, the +vision would not assume any distinctness. + +"Oh dear, if I could only remember!" said she at last. "If I could only +remember my mother! But I can't. All I can think of is a pale lady +lying on a sofa, or something, and dressing a doll for me, and then +holding me on her lap and teaching me to say, 'Now I lay me down to +sleep.' Oh, if she had only lived, wouldn't I have worked my fingers +off for her! I do think it was very hard I could not have a father and +mother like other people. Mary would say I had a Father in heaven, but +that does not seem the same at all." + +Then came one of those vivid flashes of memory which do come unbidden, +though they will seldom obey the will. She saw herself seated upon +Miss Malvina's lap by the side of the great open fireplace filled +with generous logs, before which stood a row of roasting apples. She +could see the very smoothing-irons on the mantlepiece, the stand with +the great Bible in the corner, the patchwork cushioned chairs, and +Miss Malvina's chintz short-gown and quilted petticoat, and heard the +old lady's tremulous voice as she said, "That was your dear mother's +favorite hymn, Calista, my love. Never forget it; never forget that +your dear mother was a true Christian, if a Christian ever lived. The +Lord was her shepherd, and he will be yours too, and lead you home to +himself and to her if you will only give your heart to him." + +"Then my mother is in heaven now!" said Calista to herself, with a +feeling of awe. She sat a few minutes longer, and then lighting her +very small end of candle, she got out her old ragged Bible and opened +it at random. + + "'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give +you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and +lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.'" (Matt. 11: +28, 29). + +Calista sighed. She knew that she was not meek or lowly. She tried +again, and opened to the third of Colossians, where she read,— + + "'Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.'" + +There was not much comfort in that either, but she read the chapter to +the end, and then knelt down and repeated the Lord's Prayer and "Now I +lay me down to sleep." + +She could not have told exactly what she expected to gain by the +action. It was simply an act of obedience. God had told people to pray, +and she would pray. But by so doing, she had made a great step. She had +recognized and confessed a conscious relationship of some kind between +herself and her Creator. Hereafter, the world would never be quite the +same to her. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTH. + +CALISTA ASKS A QUESTION. + +CALISTA was up and dressed early as usual. She had heard the threat of +taking her out of school too often to be much impressed by it, and she +went down to her breakfast with Miss Druett cheerfully enough. Miss +Priscilla usually breakfasted in bed, and as Calista passed the door of +her room she heard her scolding Chloe for putting so much butter on the +toast. + +"There she goes," thought Calista; "I do wonder why Chloe stays here, +when she might go away if she pleased." + +Breakfast was the only comfortable part of her home life to Calista. +Miss Druett gave her a fair share of the food, such as it was, and +often shared her own cup of coffee or chocolate with her, and she could +eat without feeling that every mouthful was watched. She dispatched her +basin of bread and milk with an appetite. Miss Druett was not unkind, +and gave her a liberal supply of coffee, but she did not seem inclined +to talk, and Calista fancied that her face wore an unusual shade of +care. + +"Am I to go to school, Miss Druett?" asked Calista, when she had +finished her breakfast. + +"To school!" said Miss Druett, starting. "Yes, of course; why not?" + +"You know what aunt said last night; and, really, there is not much use +in my going unless I can have books. I need a dictionary and a Bible to +use in school." + +"A Bible!" said Miss Druett, in a tone of as much surprise as if +Calista had said she needed an Arabic lexicon. "What do you want of a +Bible?" + +"To read in. We read round every morning now. Besides, we are to have a +Bible-class three times a week, and Miss McPherson wishes all the girls +to join it." + +"Oh! Well, I will see what can be done; but I don't know. I can't +promise anything." + +"Aunt Priscilla grows harder every day, I think," observed Calista. + +"That is to be expected. Calista!" said Miss Druett, with sudden +animation. "Whatever you do, never, never set your heart upon +money—upon being rich. It is a love that once hatched in the heart +is like the cow-bird in the robin's nest: it turns everything else +out that it may devour all for itself. I love you, child—you may not +believe it, but I do—and I would rather see you in your coffin than see +you setting your heart on being rich." + +Calista was standing by Miss Druett, and as the lady finished speaking, +she did what she had hardly ever done before: she stooped down and +kissed Miss Druett. + +"I do believe you love me, Miss Druett, and I love you. I wish I could +love Aunt Priscilla, but she won't let me." + +Miss Druett returned the kiss, and her eyes were suspiciously bright as +she said,— + +"Pity her then, child; you can do that. Now get ready for school, and +go into Priscilla's room before you set out. She has a message to +send to Mr. Settson. Don't say anything to her about your books. Ask +Miss McPherson to provide for you what is absolutely needful, and if +Priscilla won't pay the bill, I will contrive to do it myself." + +Calista went away and got ready for school as she was bidden, and then +opened the door of her aunt's room. Miss Priscilla, with a shawl round +her shoulders, was sitting up in bed examining an account-book, and +looked up impatiently as Calista entered. + +"What do you want here?" was her polite salutation. + +"Miss Druett said you wanted to send some message by me," returned +Calista, with equal conciseness. + +"Oh! Well, you may go and see Mr. Settson and tell him I think he must +foreclose that mortgage of Simpson's. He will never pay in the world." + +"His wife is sick so much," said Calista, she hardly knew why. + +"What is that to you, miss? Are you going to set up to direct my +business affairs? Take the message as I tell you." + +"Very well," answered Calista, dryly; "anything else?" + +"Anything else! No, nothing else. I suppose you would like to have me +give you a commission to buy yourself a silk dress and an India shawl, +wouldn't you?" + +"An India shawl would hardly be suitable for me, but I should like +the dress very much," said Calista, with the mischievousness which no +amount of snubbing had ever subdued. "Shall I get black or colored, +aunt? Clapp has a lovely dark blue, which would be just the thing for +me. Shall I bring you a sample?" + +Miss Priscilla seized the book which lay before her in a way which made +Calista dodge, as if she expected to have her ears boxed with it—a +thing which had happened before—but Miss Priscilla, if such were her +design, relinquished it and contented herself with a threatening shake +of her head. + +Calista went away laughing; but her laugh was suddenly checked. + +"I ought not to enrage her so," she said to herself. "There is no +telling what she might do. But the temptation is so strong to take her +at her word. I wonder what she would say if I did. Anyway, I shall have +a chance to see Mr. Settson." + +Calista walked to school—not by the river road, however—and arrived +just in time to save a "tardy" mark. + + +At recess the girls were of course engaged in discussing the question +of the sale. + +"What are you going to make, Calista?" asked Antoinette Diaments of +Calista, as the latter stood near Miss McPherson, in the school-house +porch. She had purposely chosen her time with the amiable intention of +mortifying Calista before her schoolmistress; but her scheme failed; +and, moreover, involved herself in unexpected trouble. + +"I don't suppose I shall make anything," said Calista, coloring. "My +aunt has her own ideas about such things, and she has not said yet that +she will give me any money." + +"Oh!" said Antoinette, sarcastically. "How sorry you must be!" + +Before Calista had time to reply, Belle Adair came up in a great hurry. + +"Oh, Antoinette, I am glad I have found you," said she. "Tessy has +asked me to buy some netting cotton and a needle for her; and she told +me to ask you for the money you owe her, as she has none." + +"I haven't any change," said Antoinette, coloring and looking daggers +at Belle. + +"Eh, my dear! What is that?" asked Miss McPherson. + +"Nothing, ma'am; only Antoinette owes Tessy four and sixpence, and +Tessy told me to ask her for it; but Antoinette says she has no change. +Perhaps you can let her have some, ma'am," said Belle, as demurely as a +kitten bent on mischief. + +"Certainly," said Miss McPherson, producing her purse. "What do you +wish to have changed, Antoinette?" + +"There is no hurry," said Antoinette. + +"Why, yes, I think there is," returned Belle. "You know, Antoinette, +Tessy has asked you for the money several times, and you could not pay +her because you had not the change. But, as Miss McPherson is so kind—" + +Miss McPherson smiled, and frowned a little at the same time. She was +used to girls, and saw through Belle's little plot on the instant. She +also saw through Antoinette's evasion, and she detested meanness. Her +tone was, therefore, somewhat sharp as she said,— + +"Antoinette, did you hear me? Give me the bill you wish to have +changed, this moment." + +Startled out of her presence of mind, Antoinette pulled her purse out +of her pocket. As she did so, the clasp gave way and let out a handful +of silver and copper, which fell on the floor. The girls exchanged +glances as they assisted in picking it up. + +"Give that money to me!" said Miss McPherson. Then, as she counted it +over, "What did you mean by saying that you had no change, Antoinette? +Here are more than ten shillings in silver." + +"I—I forgot," murmured Antoinette. + +"Why did you not look to see? I must say it is difficult to believe you +could forget, with all this weight of silver in your pocket. Anabella, +here is Theresa's money. Are you going to lay it out for her?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Miss Jessy said I might, as she had no netting cotton of +the proper size, and Tessy cannot go out on account of her lame ankle." + +"Oh, very well. I presume you will use very good judgment. Anything +else?" + +"Please, ma'am, may I walk down with Anabella?" said Calista. "I have +an errand for my aunt." + +"Certainly; only do not be late for dinner; and, my love, I should like +you to perform a commission for me. Have you any work on hand that you +particularly wish to do?" + +"No, ma'am," answered Calista, with a beating heart. + +"Then perhaps you will undertake some. I have no time for fancy work, +at present, and I believe I must make you and Jenny Rose my deputies. +What say you? Will you knit a bureau cover for me? I know you are an +excellent knitter." + +"Oh, thank you, ma'am. I should like to do it so very much," replied +Calista, with a rush of love and gratitude which brought the unusual +tears very near her eyes. + +"Very well, that is settled. Ask Miss Jessy what you will need, and I +will give you an order for the materials. But remember, I shall expect +something quite out of the common, that will be a credit to both of us. +Now go, or you will have no time." + +"Isn't she a dear?" said Anabella, as they walked away. + +"Indeed she is. You might say so if you were in my place. But, Belle, +you have got Antoinette into a scrape." + +"Yes, a worse one than I meant, though she deserves it for the way she +treats little Tessy. Think of her keeping the poor child out of her +money all this time!" + +"Antoinette can't bear to part with money: all the girls know that," +said Calista. "I wonder if I should be so mean if I were rich." + +"It is not being rich. Look at Elizabeth Howell. She hasn't a mean +thing about her. Are you going to buy your cotton to-day?" + +"No, I must see Miss Jessy first; and, as I said, I have a message from +my aunt to Mr. Settson." + +"Good-bye, then, till I see you again." + + +Calista found the old gentleman alone in his office. She delivered her +message, and then plunged into the subject of which her own head was +full. + +"Mr. Settson, I should like to ask you a question, if it is not +improper." + +"Ask it," said Mr. Settson, smiling, "and then I shall know whether it +is improper or not." + +"It is about my grandfather's will," said Calista. "Miss Betsy told me +the other day that grandfather told her he had altered his will and +done justice to his son Richard and his wife. She said he told her and +Miss Hannah so only two or three days before he died. I am not a child +any more," said Calista. "I think I have some right to know about the +affairs of my own family. There is no use in asking anything of Aunt +Priscilla or Miss Druett. Miss Druett thinks I am no more than a baby, +and I don't know but aunt would kill me outright if I were to say +anything to her about business." + +Mr. Settson leaned back in his chair, took a pinch of snuff, and +regarded his young visitor with a critical glance. + +Calista was, as I have said, a very handsome girl, and had an +expression of vigorous health and strength somewhat uncommon at that +time, when it was considered a mark of gentility to be "delicate." She +carried herself remarkably well, and spoke with a ladylike tone and +accent, and though her manner was decided, it was modest and womanly. + +Mr. Settson's first remark was apparently irrelevant, to say the least +of it. + +"Take off that poke bonnet, child; I want to look at you." + +Calista found it somewhat hard to repress a movement of impatience, +but she did repress it, and took off her bonnet as desired, showing +the beautiful black hair, which no amount of brushing would keep from +curling and waving in its own way. + +"Humph!" said the old gentleman. "A thorough Stanfield. Did any one +ever tell you that?" + +"Yes, sir. Miss Betsy and Miss Hannah said so, and old Cassius." + +"Well, my dear child, I quite agree with you that you have a right—a +moral right at least—to know the particulars concerning your late +grandfather's estate; but the story is not to be told in five minutes. +Have you half an hour to spare?" + +"Oh, yes, sir, an hour, if necessary," answered Calista, with a beating +heart, but outwardly quite composed. If her life with Miss Priscilla +had taught her nothing else, it had at least taught her self-control. + +"Very well. To make you understand matters, I must begin some way +back. You know, probably, that your grandmother was a second wife. She +was a Miss Howell, related to the Howells at Graywich, and possessed +of some property, which went into your grandfather's hands, as there +were no special settlements. General Stanfield was somewhat advanced +in life, and Priscilla, the only child of his first wife, was nearly +as old as his bride. When Richard came, he was naturally the object of +great affection, and I do not hesitate to say that his father was most +injudiciously, even culpably, indulgent to him. + +"The boy was permitted to run wild, so far as any government was +concerned. He associated with all sorts of people, and was given an +almost unlimited command of money. This was particularly the case after +his mother died, which she did, unfortunately, when your father was +only ten years old. Under such circumstances, it is a wonder that your +father grew up no worse than he did. I do not mean to say that he was +addicted to low vice or dissipation, for such was never the case, but +he was extravagant and self-indulgent, and totally without any guiding +principle, religious or otherwise. Your grandfather had unfortunately +taken up with those notions of the French philosophers which Mr. +Jefferson had made fashionable." + +Mr. Settson then gave an account of her father's college life, his +marriage, and the displeasure of her grandfather, and added: "A few +days about ten, I think—before his death, as I was riding out of town +to keep an appointment, I met General Stanfield, who had been away for +two or three weeks. He directed Cassius, who was with him as usual, to +go on, while he turned his horse and rode by my side for some distance, +talking on various subjects. Just as we were about to part, he said: + +"'Settson, I have made a new will.' + +"'Indeed!' said I. + +"'Yes,' said he. 'I have thought the matter over, and I believe I have +been wrong, so I have made a new will, giving the homestead and all in +Cohansey to Dick and his children, if he has any, with a due allowance +to his wife. I shall bring the papers in to you in a few days, and we +will consult on the best way of obtaining intelligence.' + +"If I had had any suspicion of what was coming, I should have asked for +more particulars; but your grandfather's horse was very restive, and I +was in a hurry to keep my appointment. Just as your grandfather turned +back to go home, he said, 'I have made you and Fabian executors and +guardians.' + +"I was out of town for several days," continued Mr. Settson, "and the +very day after my return, I heard of your grandfather's death. Of +course I caused a proper search to be made for the will, but it was +not to be found. Cassius, whom I questioned closely, knew nothing of +the matter, not even when or where the will should have been made. His +master had been in New York, Philadelphia, and several other places, +but he had never known of his visiting a lawyer's office. And though +I was at a good deal of trouble and expense, I could never find out +anything about the matter." + +Calista sat silent a moment; then she asked, in a tone which was +singularly calm and business-like,— + +"In what year was this, Mr. Settson?" + +"In 1817." + +"But did not grandfather know that his son was dead and had left a +child?" + +"No, he knew nothing of either circumstance. Your parents never wrote +to him, or he never received their letters. Shortly after your mother's +death, Priscilla informed me, through Miss Druett, that she had learned +that Richard had left a daughter who was now an orphan, and that as +soon as the spring opened, she intended to send for the child and give +it a home, though, as she was careful to state, she was under no legal +obligation to do so." + +"Then if the last will could be found, would the old place and the rest +be mine?" + +"Without doubt; but I fear it never will be found." + +"Mr. Settson," said Calista, with flashing eyes and pale lips, "do you +suppose Aunt Priscilla could have destroyed that last will?" + +Mr. Settson was so startled by the question that it took a very large +pinch of snuff to restore his equanimity. + +"My dear Calista, you should think twice before even hinting at an +accusation of such a crime against your aunt. No, I do not believe +her capable of such an action—at least at that time. At present I do +not hesitate to say that I should hardly be surprised. I believe the +love of money has grown to be a disease with her, as it does with most +people who indulge in it. Never let it get hold of you, my dear child." + +"There seems no great danger of my having any money to love," said +Calista, rather bitterly. + +"Oh, but you may love money without having it," said Mr. Settson. "I +suppose as many poor people love money as rich people—perhaps more in +proportion." + +"I am taking up a great deal of your time," said Calista, becoming +suddenly aware of the fact, and rising as the church clock struck. + +"You are welcome to it, my child. Sit down again for a moment; I have +something more to say to you." + +Calista sat down, wondering what was coming. + +"My dear Calista, I have always been interested in you," began Mr. +Settson, "for the sake of your grandfather, who was my father's friend +and mine, as well as for your own sake, and also because I consider +myself as your guardian by your grandfather's appointment. When +Miss Druett brought you home, I applied to Miss Priscilla Stanfield +for permission to take you and bring you up as my own, but this she +refused, and for some reason, which I do not understand, has always +refused. I have, however, kept my eye upon you. Thus I prevailed upon +your aunt to send you to school—" + +"I thought that was Miss Druett's doing," interrupted Calista, +surprised. + +"It was, in a great degree; that is, I should never have carried my +point but for her. What I wish to say is, that you may always come to +me for any advice or help you need. Consider me as standing to you in +the place of a father." + +"Thank you, sir," said Calista, gratefully; "I am sure you are very +good. It is a comfort to think I have even one friend to look to." + +"'You have one Friend far more powerful than I am, my child, if you +will only seek him. Try to cultivate a sense of personal religion. Do +you do so?" + +"No, Mr. Settson," answered Calista, with the perfect frankness which +was one of her best traits. "I don't even know exactly what you mean by +personal religion." + +"I mean personal loyalty to a personal God and Saviour," said Mr. +Settson, emphatically. "You can understand that." + +"Yes, sir; but I am afraid I don't feel it. Mr. Settson, will you just +tell me one thing?" + +"If I can, certainly." + +"Do you really and truly, I don't say believe, but feel and realize it, +that God is your own Friend and Father, and loves you so that he really +cares for what you do and what happens to you?" + +"I most certainly do!" answered the old lawyer, with an earnestness +equal to her own. "I don't say that I am able to realize the fact at +all times alike, but I know and believe it as firmly as I do in my own +existence. Calista, I have had a reasonably prosperous and happy life, +but I solemnly declare that, only for my children, if I believed this +life was all, and that there was no God, or that God did not love and +care for me, I would give up life as a bad business, and be rid of the +trouble." + +"But would that be right?" asked Calista. + +"Perhaps not; but I fear the idea of right and wrong would not be very +strong with me under such circumstances as I have supposed." + +"What about Mr. Simpson's mortgage?" asked Calista, as she rose to go. + +"Oh! Tell Miss Priscilla that the man has been sick and unfortunate, +but he is sure to pay in the end, and I think she had better give him a +little more time. The investment is safe enough." + +"Please write it," said Calista. "She will only rave at me." + +"Perhaps it would be better." Mr. Settson wrote his note. + +Calista put it in her pocket and walked away, with her head fuller of +thoughts than it had ever been before. She was so absent in school, +and made so many mistakes that Miss Jessy observed to Miss Meeks that +Calista's head was far too full of her fancy work, and Miss Meeks +returned with a sarcastic smile, that she had never expected anything +else. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTH. + +THE SECRET DRAWER. + +FOR several days Calista went about like one in a dream. She was so +absent that Miss Druett wondered what had come over the child; and she +made so many blunders in school that she brought down on her head a +sharp reprimand from Miss Meeks. + +"It is just what I predicted when this nonsense fair was first gotten +up," said that lady. "Your head is so full of your fancy work that you +can think of nothing else." + +"Eh! What is that?" asked Miss McPherson. + +"It is that Miss Stanfield is so careless that there is no bearing it, +ma'am," answered Miss Meeks. "Her exercise is just a disgrace with +blots, and the writing looks as if a powowet * had wagged over it." +Miss Meeks was apt to get to her Scotch when excited. "I tell her, +ma'am, it is a poor return for your kindness about the knitting work," +pursued the teacher; "verra ungrateful, I must needs say." + + * A tadpole or pollywog, as we call it hereabouts. + +"It was not the knitting work," said Calista, very much hurt, but +trying to speak civilly, as she knew how Miss McPherson was vexed by +any rudeness to poor Miss Meeks. "I have had a great deal to think of +this week, Miss Meeks, and I know I have been careless, but I will try +to do better. I handed you the first copy of the exercise instead of +the second—that is all. Here is the right one." + +Miss McPherson took it from her hand and looked it over. "That is not +bad," said she; "but you should not allow yourself to write carelessly +at any time. However, Miss Meeks will excuse you this once." + +"Of course," said the teacher, not very graciously however, and as she +went away, she murmured something about favorites and absurd indulgence. + +Miss McPherson only smiled. She understood Miss Meeks's good qualities, +and she knew that the poor lady's irritability had a better excuse than +that of most people. + +"Really, Calista, my dear, you must try to do better, for your own +sake," said she, gently. "Remember that you are losing opportunities +which you may not have very long, and for which you are responsible. +Whatever it is that's occupying your mind, put it aside in school time +and give your whole attention to your lessons." + +Calista felt the wisdom of the advice, and tried to follow it in school +hours, but out of school, all her thoughts were occupied about what Mr. +Settson had told her. Then the old Stanfield place was really hers, by +right. Her grandfather had meant her to have it; he had made a will to +that effect, and her aunt had either hidden or destroyed it. Of that +Calista had no doubt, and conviction embittered her feeling towards +Miss Priscilla to an almost intolerable degree. + +"Oh, if I could find a chance, wouldn't I take one good look into +grandfather's room?" she said to herself, looking up at the shutters, +which she had never seen unbarred since she lived in the house. + +The room in question opened from the now never used back parlor, and +had been the General's private office. The back parlor was high and +spacious, and contained two or three tall book-cases, at which Calista +often gazed with longing eyes. They were always kept locked, and +the faded green silk linings of the glass doors hid their contents +effectually. The front parlor was kept in some sort of order, but the +shutters were always closed, and the room was forbidden ground to +Calista. + +It was Wednesday, and the afternoon session of school was to be devoted +to working for the much-talked-of fair. Calista had asked to be +excused, and had come home. To her surprise, she found no one in the +sitting-room. + +"Where are my aunt and Miss Druett, Chloe?" she asked, going into the +kitchen. + +"Gone to town to see about some law business, I expect," was the +answer. "What brings you here at this time of day?" + +Calista explained. + +"Oh, all right. Honey, you won't be afraid to stay in the house alone +a little, will you? I want dreadful bad to run over and see Sally a +little. She's got some stuff for the rheumatism, and I want to get the +receipt. You can lock the doors, you know, if you are afraid. You won't +be scared, will you?" + +"No, of course not," replied Calista, inwardly rejoiced at being left +alone in the house; "but you know what aunt will say if she comes home +and finds you gone." + +"Let her say," returned Chloe; "anyhow, I shall be back before she +will. But I'd lock the doors if I were you." + +There was no danger of Calista's neglecting this precaution. She had no +mind to be surprised in the work she proposed to herself. + +With a beating heart, she betook herself to the back parlor. She found +the book-cases all locked but one, which seemed to contain nothing, +only odd bound volumes of magazines and old newspapers. From these, +Calista extracted some numbers of the "Gentleman's Magazine" and a +couple of volumes of "La Belle Assemblée," which she laid aside, +intending to carry them to her room. She then closed the doors and +proceeded to examine the drawers under them. They contained nothing but +rubbish—bits of old fancy work and such like—but in one of them she +discovered a pretty leather working-case or equipage, as is used to be +called, containing a still serviceable pair of scissors. This she put +in her pocket, not without some misgivings. + +Then she went out to the kitchen, and finding all still, she returned +and tried the door of her grandfather's room. It was locked, as she +expected, but as she gave the door a push, something fell within, the +lock turned in her hand, and the door opened. Astonished and almost +terrified at her own success, she examined the door, and perceived that +the socket which held the bolt had fallen through the decay of the wood. + +She looked round her. The room was almost dark, but a little light came +through the round holes in the top of the shutters, enough to show +her the old mahogany desk and arm-chair, the silent clock, and the +once rich Turkey carpet which partly covered the floor, and from which +quite a cloud of little moths rose up as she stepped upon it. Over +the mantlepiece hung a portrait which she supposed to be that of her +grandmother, and under it a beautiful painted miniature of a little boy. + +[Illustration: _Old Stanfield House._ + She advanced to the desk and lifted the lid.] + +"That was my father, I suppose," said Calista to herself. "I am glad +grandfather kept his picture, at any rate." + +She advanced to the desk and lifted the lid. It was empty, save for +a few papers which did not seem to be of any special value; only old +bills and leases. There was a recess in which lay an old-fashioned gold +seal; Calista took it up, and put her hand back to see if there was +anything else. There was nothing; but as she felt about, she touched +a spring, a small cupboard door opened, and she saw, lying upon its +shelves, half a dozen or more bright gold pieces of different sizes. + +A strange feeling came over Calista at this sight—almost like that of a +starving man at the sight of food. She saw the gold, and felt as if she +must have it at any price—at any risk. + +"It is yours by right," something said to her; "that and a great +deal more. Take it. Take a part of it, at any rate. Very likely Miss +Priscilla does not know of its existence, and will never miss it. She +never comes into this room. Take the gold. Who has a better right?" + +It seemed afterward to Calista that she stood debating the matter +with herself for an hour. In reality, it was not for two minutes. She +listened to the voice of the tempter, and stretched out her hand for +the gold. She would have taken it in another moment—made the false step +which, perhaps, she would never have retrieved. What stopped her? + +Merely an old recollection. Merely the words which had come to her mind +that night when she had first spoken to her Creator. The remembrance of +Miss Malvina's words, "Your mother was a true Christian, and is waiting +in her heavenly home for her little daughter." + +Calista drew back her hand, like one who had seen a rattlesnake coiled +under the fruit he was just going to gather. In all haste she pushed to +the cupboard door, closed the desk, and fled to her own room, utterly +forgetting that she had left a witness of her presence behind her in +the books she had laid aside. Once in her own room, she threw herself +on the bed, sobbing hysterically. + +"Oh, mother! I didn't take it—I didn't take it!" she cried, as if +speaking to an actual presence in the room. "Oh, mother! You saved me! +I did not take the gold! I am not a thief! Oh, how glad I am that I +didn't even touch it—" + +She was still sobbing when she heard the clock strike, and knew that +her aunt must soon be at home. She arose, bathed her face and smoothed +her hair, and went down to the kitchen just in time to let in Chloe. + +"I didn't mean to leave you alone so long, honey," said the old woman. +"There's a cake old Sally sent you, to make up for it. But what's the +matter?" she asked, looking curiously at Calista. "Did anything scare +you?" + +"Yes; I was a little frightened at staying alone so long; but never +mind. You must hurry and get tea ready, for my aunt will be here +directly." + +"That's so, and she'll raise old Ned if she's kept waiting. There, put +your cake away up stairs, and keep it for yourself. But first run and +pick up some chips for me, there's a dear." + +Calista was not sorry to get into the fresh air. She picked up the +chips, and then wandered across the road to the old graveyard, and read +the inscription on her grandfather's monument. + +"Twelve years ago he died," she said to herself. "For twelve long years +all his money and land have been no more to him. No, not as much as +this little wild strawberry is to me. And his life in the other world +has hardly begun yet. Twelve years. My mother has been dead longer than +that; and what difference does it make to them that one died rich and +the other poor!" + +"We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain that we carry +nothing out." Calista had heard these words many times, till they +were as trite to her as they are, perhaps, to you and me; but to-day, +sitting by her grandfather's grave, they took on a meaning as new as +though an angel had just spoken them in her ear. She saw, as it is +given to people sometimes to see, this life and the next in their +true proportions and relations. She saw how near that other life lay +to hers; how her daily path ran along its very margin, which it might +cross at any minute. She saw how immeasurably little—how absolutely +nothing—were all the interests of this life compared with that. A few +times in almost every person's life, the veil is lifted which hangs +between this life and that, and the spectator is shown a glimpse of the +fair and dreadful things behind it; and a voice, not of this world, +says,— + +"These, THESE are the real things!" + +The others are but dreams and shadows; or, at most, empty toys, broken +before enjoyed, wounding the hand that grasps them. Woe to him if, +having seen that sight and heard that voice, he goes on still in his +own way, living as if there were no such thing! The other day I saw +some sparrows busily making a nest in a building which was at that +moment being torn down. The silly little birds were wise compared to +such a man. + +Calista rose at last, and busied herself in pulling up the weeds and +thistles which grew on her grandfather's and grandmother's grave. +She would have done the same for that of the first Mrs. Stanfield, +Priscilla's mother, but it was overgrown with a poison vine which she +dared not touch. She had but just finished her task when she saw the +chaise drive up with her aunt and Miss Druett. She gathered a bunch of +the fragrant honeysuckle and some of the exquisitely fluted buds of the +laurel, and went in. + +It was very easy to see that Miss Priscilla was in one of her worst +humors. Calista had not exaggerated in saying that at such times she +was like some strong wild animal. She glared at Calista when she came +in, but said not a word. Calista put her flowers in water and came down +to tea. Not a word was spoken till Miss Druett said, not unkindly— + +"I saw you come across the road, Calista. Where had you been?" + +"Only in the graveyard, Miss Druett." + +"And what took you there, child? It is not cheerful place." + +"No, indeed. I took a fancy to read the inscription on grandfather's +monument. It is terribly out of repair, and will be tumbling down if it +is not mended. And, Aunt Priscilla, your mother's grave is all covered +with poison ivy!" + +Miss Priscilla set down her teacup with shaking hands and stared at +Calista, while her cheeks and even her lips became white. + +"How dare you go there?" she stammered. "How dare you speak to me of +graves?" + +"Why, where is the harm?" said Calista. "I wanted to see the monuments. +We must all go there some time or other, I suppose. Death seems about +the only certain thing one has to look forward to," she continued, +musingly, and speaking more to herself than her companions. "We are +sure of that, whatever else happens." + +"Be still!" almost screamed Miss Priscilla. "I won't hear such words! +Druey, make her be still! Send her away! I shall dream of dying—I know +I shall—and of the grave!" + +"Hush, Priscilla. Don't excite yourself so. The child meant no harm," +said Miss Druett. "There, run away, child, and ask Chloe for some +supper, or go up to my room if you like. There is something for you on +the bed." + +Calista obeyed, wondering at the storm she had raised. She did not care +for more supper, so she went up to Miss Druett's room, where she found +two cheap but pretty new frocks and a straw bonnet such as other girls +wore. Miss Druett had evidently carried her point somehow. + +She ventured down to the sitting-room after awhile. She found Miss +Priscilla asleep in her chair, as usual, and Miss Druett looking out of +the window, as usual. Calista stole to a low seat beside her, and Miss +Druett laid a hand on her head. + +"Thank you ever so much for the dresses, Miss Druett," Calista +whispered; "I know they were your buying—were they not?" + +"Partly, and partly Mr. Settson's. Calista, you must never again speak +to your aunt as you did to-night. I thought she would have a fit." + +"I did not mean any harm, Miss Druett." + +"I know it, child." + +"And surely Aunt Priscilla knows that she must die some time." + +"We know a great many things we do not like to think or speak about, +child; and Priscilla has a greater horror of death than any one I ever +saw." + +"I don't see why she should, when she thinks that death ends +everything," observed Calista. + +"Yes, but you see there is always a terrible perhaps; and then the +thought of annihilation is dreadful to most people. But—not to talk +any more about that—tell me, Calla have you seen Old Zeke or his wife +anywhere about lately?" + +"No, not lately; at least, not that I am sure of," said Calista, +considering. "I saw a very tall woman on the edge of the woods as I was +coming home yesterday, but I was not near enough to see what she was +like, only, as I said, she was very tall. Why?" + +"Can I trust your discretion if I tell you?" + +"I think so," answered Calista—less proudly than she would have said +the words in the morning, for she still felt humbled in her own eyes. + +Miss Druett put her head down to Calista's and whispered very low— + +"Because I am afraid they are getting an influence over Priscilla +again. I am much mistaken if she has not had an interview with one or +other of them, and she has dropped more than one hint about spies and +so on. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open, and tell me if you +see anything. Hush, she is waking up. Get your knitting, child. You +should not sit idle all the evening." + +Miss Druett said these words aloud. + +Miss Priscilla glanced sharply at her, but apparently saw nothing to +rouse her suspicions, and the evening passed away as usual. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTH. + +MISS MEEKS. + +CALISTA waked early the next morning, and lay a long time thinking over +what had happened the day before. She shuddered at the narrowness of +her escape. + +"Oh, how differently I should be feeling if I had taken that money! It +was mother who saved me," she said to herself. + +And then a sensation of awe came over her as she asked herself the +question, "But who was it that sent the remembrance of mother at the +critical moment? Did he really care? Did he save me—me, who never did +or tried to do one thing for him in all my life? Can it be that Mary is +right, and that he really loves 'me?'" + +Calista rose, dressed herself, and sat down in her accustomed place in +the deep window. She revolved many things in her mind. She went back +over her past life, and considered her present situation. She looked +herself fairly in the face, so to speak, and she did not find a great +deal in the view to flatter her vanity. + +It was true, as Mary had hinted: she was in danger of thinking as much +of money as Aunt Priscilla herself. + +Looking back over the past few weeks, she was astonished to see how +much of her time and thoughts had been bestowed on that subject alone. +Walking by the way, alone in her own room, in the school-room when her +book was before her and her mind should have been on its pages—even +in the house of God itself—her one subject of contemplation had been +money, or what money would buy; what she would do when Aunt Priscilla +was out of the way, and the Stanfield place should be her own; and +latterly, how she would find her grandfather's will; how she would +confront Aunt Priscilla, and humble her in the dust; how she would take +possession of the old mansion, and put it in perfect repair; these had +been her dreams day and night. These had led her into temptation—had +almost brought her to the commission of an act at the thought of which +she still turned cold and sick. + +"I am resolved I will do so no more," she said to herself, decidedly +and almost aloud. "I will give my whole mind to my lessons, and so +prepare myself to make my own way in the world. I will try to be civil +to Aunt Priscilla, and not provoke her; but whatever I do, I won't be +thinking of nothing but money all the time, I am determined upon that. +She can't live forever, that is certain, and—" + +And then Calista, pulled herself up short, vexed and ashamed to find +her thoughts, even in the very moment of her resolution, going off into +their old channels. She would find, as many another has found, that +resolutions made in mere human strength are, as opposed to the force of +inbred and indulged sin, as a rope of sand to a mountain torrent. + +She rose with an impatient movement, and taking her grammar, which she +had brought home, she set herself determinedly to commit to memory the +notes under the rules, and to frame examples to illustrate them; and +she grew so interested in her work as to be surprised when the clock +struck seven, the signal for breakfast. + + +"Oh, Calista, why didn't you stay yesterday?" said Belle Adair, as +Calista entered the school-room. "We had such a nice afternoon! Miss +McPherson sat with us and told us stories about the time she went to +school in Scotland and in Paris." + +"That must have been lovely," said Calista. "I wish I had staid." + +"Why didn't you?" + +"I thought of something I wished to do at home, but I didn't accomplish +it, so I might as well have been here, and better, too. What work did +you do?" + +"I worked at my lace veil, and Tessy began her curtains, and did quite +a piece upon one; and Mary Burns has a rug of sewed-on work, and +Elizabeth Howell a tucked skirt, and Clary Whitman a painted velvet +stool, and I can't tell you all, only we had a lovely time!" + +"All but Antoinette!" remarked Emma. + +"Why, what was the matter with Antoinette?" + +"Well, several things. In the first place, you must know that Miss +McPherson has been changing the rooms about. She has put Tessy in the +little room that opens from Miss Jessy's." + +"Poor Tessy! She will have to learn to keep her things in order." + +"Well, Tessy says she doesn't care: she wants to learn to be neat. And +Antoinette is in the other little room by herself, next to Miss Meeks. +She doesn't like it one bit, because she can't borrow of Tessy now +without being found out, and none of the other girls will lend to her. +Even Elizabeth Howell said to her, when she wanted some hairpins, 'Thee +is just as well able to buy hairpins as I am!'" + +"Well, so she is. Now Mary Burns is really poor, but you don't find her +sponging!" said Emma. + +"Well, but that needn't have spoiled Antoinette's comfort yesterday +afternoon. What was the matter then?" + +"Oh, Miss McPherson would not let her work the grand picture with the +spangled shepherdess that she had set her heart on! She said that such +things were going out of fashion, and that this would be so expensive +no one would buy it, and she should do something less ambitious. +Antoinette said pertly she did not care whether any one bought it or +not, she should have the credit of it, and if the picture did not +sell, she should have that too. You should have seen Miss McPherson +look at her! And then Elizabeth Howell asked Miss McPherson if she did +not think it would be better to have the things sent in just from the +school, without any individual names at all." + +"That is just like Elizabeth—especially as she is doing the prettiest +piece of all; I mean her muslin apron. Well, what did Miss McPherson +say?" + +"She said we could take time and think the matter over, and then we +could decide." + +"And then Charity Latch—just think, Calista—Charity said for her part +she wanted the credit for what 'she' did." + +"She works so elegantly," said Calista, and all the girls laughed, +for it was notorious that Charity had never learned to sew up a seam +decently. + +"But how do you like the idea, Calista?" asked Mary Settson. + +"Oh, it suits me very well," answered Calista, with a little +bitterness, "so long as I have nothing to do at all." + +"I am sure your bureau cover will be lovely." + +"It isn't mine, it is Miss McPherson's. How do you like it, Mary?" + +"Well, I must say, with Charity, I don't see why we should not have the +credit of what we do," said Mary. "I know I like to, for one, as well +as she does." + +"The Bible says we should not let our left hand know what our right +hand does, thee knows, Mary," said Elizabeth Howell, who had joined the +group in time to hear Calista's question and Mary's answer; "and we are +not to love the praise of men." + +"Not better than the praise of God," said Mary, quickly. + +"And how is one to set a good example, if one's doings are never to be +known?" + +"I can't say I think much of examples that are set on purpose," +remarked Belle Adair. "And I don't believe one ought to be always +thinking about them, either. That just comes to thinking, what people +will say about you. And I suppose it is just as much loving the world +to care too much about being looked up to, as it is to care too much +about money, like some folks." + +"I suppose it is," said Tessy, thoughtfully, while Mary looked annoyed. +"I thought it was every one's duty to set a good example. Have you +learned a verse, Emma? This is Bible morning, you know." + +"Yes; Miss Jessy showed me a nice one," answered Emma: + + "'Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it.'" (John 2:5) + +"Exactly," said Elizabeth, smoothing the little girl's hair; "let us +only remember that, and our example will take care of itself." + +"I wonder if Belle and Elizabeth think that I do love the world," +thought Mary, as she took her seat; "I don't see why they should." + +Calista did not find the day altogether a pleasant one. Her desk-mate, +Antoinette, was in a desperate fit of the sulks, and she gave her +companion the full benefit of it, making herself disagreeable in all +the ways which the ingenuity of ill temper could contrive. Calista +herself was preoccupied; and though she tried very hard to adhere to +the rule she had laid down of thinking of nothing in school but her +lessons, she did not succeed very well. She had allowed herself to fall +into bad habits in this respect. + +And she had, besides, a cause of considerable anxiety. Putting her +hand into an inside pocket to find a pencil, her fingers encountered +something hard, which her touch did not recognize. She drew it out, and +there was the little working equipage she had found in the book-case +drawer. She had taken it almost without thought, only considering that +the scissors and bodkin would be convenient to use; but as she looked +at it she saw that the little bottle, which still smelled of otto of +roses, had a gold or gilded stopper, and that all the handles of the +implements were the same. The whole was evidently of considerable +value. Nor was that all. As Calista looked at it, she remembered the +pile of books and magazines she had intended to take to her room, and +which she had left lying on the floor by the book-case. Then, too, +there was the broken lock to her grandfather's room She did not know +whether Aunt Priscilla ever went thither, but if she did, she would be +sure to see that some one had been meddling. She would suspect Calista, +of course, as she always did suspect her of any mischief that was done +in the house. + +"Well, if she does, I must just tell her the truth, whatever comes," +thought Calista. "After all, where was the harm? She never told me not +to go there." + +Calista still held the case in her hand when the recess bell struck, +and she was roused from her reverie by hearing Antoinette, say,— + +"Oh, Calista, what a pretty case! Where did you get it? Let me see it, +won't you?" + +"It is not mine," said Calista, holding it out for inspection. "I did +not know I had it with me." + +"Did your aunt lend it to you? How curious it is! Do you suppose those +handles are gold? Let me take it, won't you?" + +"No, I can't; I told you it was not mine," and Calista put out her hand +for the box. + +"But you can just lend it to me for a day or two. Come, do. I am going +over to Graywich to spend Sunday, and it would be so nice to carry. +Come, do." + +"I tell you it is not mine," answered Calista; the more angrily because +she was vexed with herself. "Give it to me this minute." + +"Take it, then," said Antoinette, as angrily as herself. "For my part, +I would not carry about such valuable things belonging to other people. +Would you, Miss Meeks?" + +Now, Antoinette had succeeded in getting on the favorable side of +Miss Meeks—an operation which she had never performed with Miss +McPherson. Moreover, Miss Meeks did not like Calista, who was somewhat +opinionated, and had a way of asking questions and wishing to go to the +bottom of things, not always agreeable or convenient to Miss Meeks. +Therefore, when appealed to in this way, by Antoinette, she was quite +ready to take up on her side. + +"What do you say, Antoinette?" + +"I say that, if I were Calista, I would not carry about a valuable +gold-mounted working-case belonging to somebody else." + +"Certainly not. It is very improper," said Miss Meeks, with sharp +decision. "I wonder at you, Miss Stanfield—that is, I should if it +were any one else. Pray, did your aunt give you leave to take her +working-case and bring it to school?" + +"It is not my aunt's working-case, that I know of, and I did not mean +to bring it to school," returned Calista; answering sharpness with +sharpness, and certainly speaking not very respectfully. + +"Yes, that is very likely," sneered Antoinette. + +"And if Antoinette thinks it so very improper to carry a working-case +belonging to somebody else, I think it rather singular she should be +so anxious to borrow this one to carry down to Graywich—that is, I +should if it were any one else," added Calista, with a very successful +imitation of Miss Meeks's manner. + +"Miss Stanfield, you are very impertinent. I shall report you." + +"Eh, what! What is the matter?" asked Miss McPherson herself, who had a +habit of suddenly appearing where she was least expected. + +"The matter is, ma'am, that Miss Stanfield is insolent and disobedient, +as usual," said Miss Meek; in a tone and manner of irritability so +disproportioned to the occasion that Calista looked at her in surprise. +The poor lady's lips were white, and the drops stood on her forehead. + +"How is that?" asked Miss McPherson. + +"Miss Stanfield has brought to school a valuable working-case of her +aunt's, as I understand without leave; and when I reproved her, she not +only answered me back, but actually mimicked me to my face," said Miss +Meeks, in a voice which shook so she could hardly articulate. + +"How is that, Calista?" + +"I will tell you all about it, Miss McPherson," said Calista, +recovering herself a little, but still very angry. "I found this case +in a drawer with some old rubbish, yesterday, and I put it in my pocket +without looking at it very much; I thought I would ask Miss Druett if I +might use it, because I have no scissors of my own. But she was not at +home; and when she did come, my aunt was very unwell, and several other +things happened, which, altogether, put the case out of my head, and +I forgot I had it. I found it in my pocket, just now, and Antoinette +wanted to borrow it to take down to Graywich with her when she went to +spend Saturday and Sunday. I told her it was not mine and I could not +lend it. Then she said she would not carry about valuables which did +not belong to her, and appealed to Miss Meeks, who found fault with me, +as usual. That is the whole story." + +Miss McPherson looked seriously displeased, and her displeasure fell, +to begin with, in an unexpected quarter. Antoinette knew how particular +was Miss McPherson in exacting respectful treatment towards her +subordinates, and particularly towards Miss Meeks, and she waited with +ill-concealed satisfaction to hear what would be said to Calista. As it +was, however, the principal's first words were addressed to herself. + +"Antoinette, did I not strictly forbid your borrowing or asking to +borrow anything whatever from your schoolmates?" + +Antoinette, surprised at the sudden change of programme, could only +stammer something about not meaning to use it in school time. + +"Was anything said about school or school time? Did I not positively +forbid your borrowing anything from your schoolmates on any pretext +whatever? Answer me!" + +"I didn't mean—" stammered Antoinette. + +"Don't tell me what you meant! Answer my question." + +"Yes, ma'am," Antoinette was forced to answer. + +"And yet I find you trying to borrow this very working-case from +Calista, and that when she tells you in so many words it is not hers. +I want no more words. You will take your Racine, learn the first two +speeches in Alexander by heart, and recite them to me to-morrow morning +before breakfast. No crying," added Miss McPherson, as Antoinette burst +into a flood of tears. "I will give you another ten lines for every +tear you shed." + +"Well, really!" said Miss Meeks. + +"Excuse me, my dear Eliza, but had you not better retire to your room +and rest a little?" said Miss McPherson in a tone of gentle authority. +"I will deal with this rebellious girl, and see that she makes you a +proper apology." + +Miss Meeks murmured something not very intelligible, and went away +rather against her will, as it seemed, and Miss McPherson drew Calista +into her own special sanctum, a small, cheerful book-room opening from +the school-room. + +"Now, Calista," said she, after she had taken her seat and motioned +Calista to another one, "I am going to read this article in the paper. +I want you to employ the time in thinking over your conduct this +morning, and then I shall request you to tell me whether your conduct +to Miss Meeks was ladylike or becoming. I think I can depend upon you +to be honest both with yourself and me." + +Miss McPherson took up her paper and adjusted her double eye-glass, and +Calista was left to her own reflections, which were not very agreeable. +She was vexed with herself for taking the working-case at all, for +bringing it to school, and for having lost her temper, at Antoinette +for getting her into the scrape, and at Miss Meeks for her injustice +and partiality. + +"I need not have spoken so to her, and above all I need not have +mimicked her; but it certainly is very vexatious to have some one +always ready to see the wrong side of you, and make the worst of +everything you say and do. Who would have thought of her getting in +such a rage over such a trifle! Her very lips were pale. I thought she +was going to faint. Oh dear, I wish I could ever have any peace or +comfort in all my life!" thought poor Calista, and the tears rose to +her eyes. "I should wish I were dead if it were not wicked, and if I +were sure of being better off!" + +Miss McPherson finished her article—I am able to inform the reader that +it was a critique upon a volume of tales published by one Mr. Irving, +then a young author of some promise—and laid down her paper. + +"Well, Calista," said she. + +Calista could not be obstinate under the kind, penetrating look of +those dear motherly gray eyes. She said at once: + +"Miss McPherson, I own that I was rude to Miss Meeks this morning. I +did repeat her words, and I suppose I mimicked her. I am sorry. But if +I am to say all I think—" + +"Say on, bairn," said Miss McPherson, using a tender Scotch word, which +she seldom did use. "Let me hear all that is in your mind." + +"Well, Miss McPherson, I do think that Miss Meeks was unjust to me, as +she most always is. She never stopped to hear what I had to say, but +jumped to the conclusion that Antoinette was right and I was wrong. +And that is the way she always does. I never can do anything right in +her eyes, however much I try, and I do try to please her a great many +times. I should not have minded so much this morning if I had not been +troubled about other things. But, oh, Miss McPherson, I have such hard +times at home, and then when I come to school thinking to have some +rest and comfort, to be taken up so, I could not bear it." + +And Calista burst into passionate tears. + +"Hush, hush, my dear lassie! Don't cry so!" said Miss McPherson, +gathering the bowed head and shaking form to her bosom as if Calista +had been a little child she was comforting. "I know you do have hard +times, and I know Miss Meeks is not always very wise; but, Calista, she +has hard times too, and is likely to have harder. You, at least, have +youth and health; poor Miss Meeks has neither." + +"Isn't she well?" asked Calista, interested and diverted for the +moment. "I notice she turns very pale sometimes. She did this morning. +I thought it was because she was angry." + +"I don't think so. She has times of great pain, and they are the harder +to bear because she is so determined to keep them to herself. The very +suppression makes her irritable. Can you understand that?" + +"Yes, indeed!" answered Calista. "But what is the matter with her?" + +"I do not know, though I may guess," answered Miss McPherson; "but, +Calista, you must not breathe a word of this to any one. She cannot +endure to have the subject mentioned." + +"I am sure I will not," said Calista. "I am very sorry for her. Has she +no friends?" + +"Not one that I know of except a half-demented body of a sister who has +just sense enough not to be put into an asylum, but not enough to earn +her own bread or find for herself in any way. Miss Meeks maintains her +almost entirely." + +"Poor thing!" said Calista. "I suppose that is the reason she makes her +dresses over and over, and wears her bonnets forever. If the girls knew +that, they would not laugh at her stingy ways, as they call them." + +"If we knew about the hidden life of most people, I dare say we should +find more to pity than condemn," observed Mir McPherson. "But now that +you know—in confidence, remember—thus much about poor Miss Meeks, I am +sure you will go and ask her pardon and make friends with her." + +"I will go this minute," said Calista, starting up; "and, Miss +McPherson, I am sorry I have made you so much trouble." + +"Pardon is granted, my child. As to the bone of contention—the +working-case—I do not understand all the circumstances, and so I have +nothing to say; only, my dear, whatever happens, never be tempted into +being sly or doing anything underhanded. Mind, I don't say you have, +but, situated as you are, the temptation is likely enough to beset you. +For the sake of your own soul, I beseech you not to yield to it. Now go +and find poor Miss Meeks." + +Calista knocked at the door of Miss Meeks's room in the third story, +and hearing a sound which she took for "Come in," she opened the door. +The room was darkened, but she saw Miss Meeks leaning back in the +rocking-chair. + +"I beg your pardon, Miss Meeks," she began. And then, with a sudden +change of tone, "But what is the matter?" + +Miss Meeks did not answer except by a feeble motion of the hand and a +moan. Much alarmed, Calista sprung to her side. + +"Are you faint, Miss Meeks? Shall I call some one?" + +"Shut the door!" whispered Miss Meeks. + +Calista did so and returned, but Miss Meeks was clearly fainting. +Calista had the nursing instinct—the capacity of doing the right +thing—which is born with some people, and which others never acquire. +She loosened the broad ribbon belt and buckle which Miss Meeks wore, +and slipping her hand behind her, unhooked her dress. + +"How can she dress so tight? No wonder she is faint!" was her thought. + +Miss Meeks wore a thick white cape crossed over the bosom of her +low-cut dress—all dresses were cut low at that time. Calista opened it +to give the patient air, but with the instinctive delicacy of a born +lady she closed it again. She had had a glimpse of poor Miss Meeks's +hidden trouble, and a glimpse was enough. + +"Poor thing! I won't bring any one to spy on her," her first thought. + +She sought on the toilet table for a bottle of cologne, with which she +bathed the face of her patient, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing +her color come back. Miss Meeks opened her eyes, put her hand up to her +neck, and started. + +"You are better," said Calista, gently. "Shall I help you to lie down +on the bed?" + +"No, no; I am better in the chair. My drops—in a little bottle—do you +see?" + +"Is this it?" asked Calista. "How much?" + +"Ten drops, in water." + +Calista prepared the medicine and gave it into her hand. + +She swallowed it eagerly, and then, looking up, seemed for the first +time to understand who her companion was. + +"Is this you, Calista? How came you here?" + +"I came to tell you that I was sorry for being rude to you this +morning," said Calista, blushing; "and then I found you were ill, and +staid to wait on you. Are you better?" + +"Oh, yes. It is over for this time. But you unfastened my dress!" she +added, in a tone of alarm. "Did you see?" + +"I saw you had a great trouble," answered Calista, gravely; "but don't +be alarmed, Miss Meeks. I shall never mention it, I give you my word. +But—excuse me—ought you not to have a doctor?" + +"No, no, child. There is nothing to be done—at least, not yet. Oh, +what will become of me and my poor sister?" Miss Meeks leaned against +Calista, and gave way to a burst of agonized sobs. + +Calista wisely let her cry on, supporting her, and looking down on +her former enemy with a mixture of pity and reverence which she never +thought she could feel for Miss Meeks. + +"There is the bell," said Miss Meeks, starting; "I must go down." + +"You are not fit," said Calista; "cannot you lie still and rest till +dinner?" + +"No; there are the little girls' spelling and reading classes; and Miss +Jessy is too busy to hear them." + +"Could not I hear them, for once?" asked Calista, wondering at herself. +"They are all nice little things. I dare say they would be good with +me." + +"But your grammar lesson?" + +"I learned it before I came to school. Do keep still and let me try, +Miss Meeks. It won't do any such great harm if I don't succeed as well +as you, for once; and I am sure you are not fit to go down. Your lips +are white now." + +"The pain takes a great deal out of me," said the poor lady, yielding +to the temptation and leaning back in her chair. "Well, Calista, if you +think you can, and Miss McPherson is willing, you may try. The children +are good little things, as you say, and will make no trouble." + +"And you will forgive me for being so rude this morning?" said Calista. +"Indeed, Miss Meeks, I have my own troubles, too, or I should not have +forgotten myself so." + +"Oh, my dear, don't mention it. I dare say I was unreasonable. I have +been in so much pain all the morning. You won't tell what you have +seen—not to any one?" Miss Meeks held her hand and looked imploringly +in her face. + +"No, indeed," answered Calista, solemnly. "I promise you, Miss Meeks, I +never will. Now, can I do anything else for you? For I suppose I should +be going." + +"Only hand me my Bible from the table. Thank you. Oh, my love, believe +me, if you have trouble, as you say, this is the only source of +comfort. I should die without it, or go mad. There, there, God bless +you! Go." + +"Who would have thought,—" said Calista, as, having obtained Miss +McPherson's permission, she assumed Miss Meeks's place in the little +school-room, and called the children to their lessons—"who would have +thought that I, of all people, should be Miss Meeks's deputy?" + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTH. + +MARY. + +"WHERE have you been all the morning?" asked Mary Settson, as she met +Calista just after the noon recess was proclaimed. "I have not had a +sight of you." + +"You would never guess," said Calista. "I don't know how to believe it +myself." + +Calista spoke gayly. She felt in better spirits than she had done for a +long time. Anything like a quarrel was always an annoyance to her; and +she was very much pleased at having at last made friends with poor Miss +Meeks. + +Then she had thoroughly enjoyed her hour and a half of teaching. Every +one likes to be of use, not to say of consequence. The little girls +had been very good and orderly. They had read and spelled well, and +recited their small portion of Pinnock's "Catechism" without a mistake; +and Calista had rewarded them with the story of King Alfred learning +to read and afterward watching the cakes. She had a great talent for +narration, and had the pleasure of seeing her small audience listening +with rapt attention, and of hearing a universal cry of: + +"Oh, please, Miss Stanfield, go on. Tell us some more." + +She had promised another story "some time;" and had promised to tell +Miss McPherson and Miss Meeks how good they had been. So teacher and +pupils had parted with mutual satisfaction. + +"I am not good at guessing," said Mary. + +"Well—but don't look incredulous, however strange my tale may appear—I +have been sitting upon the throne of Miss Meeks and wielding her +sceptre for a full hour and a half. In other words, I have been keeping +order and hearing lessons in the little school-room. I—even I, myself. +Think of that!" + +Mary did think of it, and it did not please her. For the last year +she had been used to being called upon to hear the little ones on +emergencies; and though she was not fond of teaching, and often +complained of the trouble, she did not dislike the consequence it gave +her any more than did Calista. So it came to pass that there was some +sharps in her tone as she said: + +"How in the world did that happen? I should say you were the last one +in the school likely to be called on to help Miss Meeks. I thought you +had a quarrel only this morning." + +"So we had, and that was exactly the way the wonderful event came to +pass." + +"You must speak more plainly if you want me to understand you." + +"Well, it happened even so: Miss Meeks and I did have—well, not just a +quarrel, but an outcome, as Miss Jessy says. It began with Antoinette +in the first place, who called Miss Meeks to take her part, which she +did, and scolded me as usual. I was vexed, and answered her back. Miss +McPherson said I was rude—or, what was still worse, she made me say +so,—" continued Calista, laughing and blushing—"and sent me to Miss +Meeks's room to apologize. I found the poor thing very ill, and all but +fainting away with a pain in her side, or something of the sort. She +would not let me call any one, and I waited on her as well as I could, +till she was better. + +"But she felt very faint and weak after the pain, and so I persuaded +her to keep quiet till dinner, and let me hear the little girls. She +said I might if Miss McPherson was willing. So I asked her, and she +said I might. The children were very good and said their lessons +nicely, and I rewarded them with the very new and original narration +of King Alfred burning the oat-cakes, with which they were as hugely +delighted as if nobody had heard it before. And, in fact, though it +is hard to believe it, I suppose a story is new to every child that +hears it for the first time;" with which original reflection Calista +concluded her own story. + +"Well, I must say, I think it was odd in Miss McPherson to send you," +said Mary, in a tone which trembled a little in spite of herself. "I +wonder what I could have done to displease her?" + +"Nothing, I presume," answered Calista, in surprise. "Why should you +think so?" + +"Because she has always asked me to hear the scholars in the little +room before, and I don't see why she should choose some one else." + +"Why, goosie, because I went to her. Miss Meeks told me to ask her, +and of course she said yes. Besides, you were busy, and I was not. I +learned all my lessons before I came to school. What could be more +natural?" + +"I don't believe it was that," said Mary, her voice shaking more and +more. "She is displeased about something. I am sure I have always done +my best with the little girls. If I have not told them stories and +amused them, I have tried to have them learn, and it is very hard to +have anybody put over my head without giving me any reason." Mary was +fairly crying. + +"Mary, you are too silly for anything," said Calista, vexed for +the moment. "Nobody has been put over your head. Don't you see how +naturally it all happened? Suppose I had asked Miss McPherson, and she +had said, 'No, I prefer Miss Settson should do it;' do you think I +should cry about it? Not I. I should just have thought, 'Mary has had +more experience; it is natural Miss McPherson should prefer her.'" + +"That is just what I say. I have had more experience." + +"You had not more experience when you began, I suppose. There must be a +first time. I dare say Miss McPherson thought it would be a good lesson +for me." + +"I am sure Miss McPherson would not have chosen some one else unless +she had something against me," continued Mary. "She acted as if she had +yesterday. She praised Mary Burns's work up to the skies, though it +only a rug made of bits out of her father's shop, and all she said to +mine was, 'Yes, very pretty, my dear.'" + +"Well, you know Mary is poor, and has very little to give, and I do +think her rug is wonderful, considering what it is made of. It looks +like a bit of Persian carpet. I have always noticed what a good eye +Mary has for colors. She would paint better than Clary Whitman if she +had the chance to learn." + +"Oh, yes, she is the eighth wonder of the world, no doubt! But I don't +think I shall send anything to the table, or go to the meetings any +more. If my work is not worth noticing, it certainly is not worth +selling." + +"Look here, Mary," said Calista, gravely, "you are always lecturing me +about loving the world, and now I am going to lecture you a little. +You think a great deal too much about being praised—about having +people think well of you. Now it seems to me that the praise of men, +as Elizabeth Howell says, is just as much one of the things of the +world that we are not to love, as money or fine clothes. Of course we +all like the good opinion of our friends; but when it comes to being +distressed because somebody else is asked to do something, or because +some other person's work is praised more than one's own, why I think it +is time to take a look and see where one is going." + +Mary was silent, and twisted her chair. She felt the words were true, +and she did not like them any the better for that. She had always +assumed a certain superiority over her friend, to which Calista had +humbly assented, and it was not agreeable to be taken to task in her +turn. + +"Come, don't let's spoil our recess," said Calista, in a lighter tone; +"you know you promised to teach me the fan stitch, and I brought my +needles on purpose." + +"You had better ask Mary Burns to show you," answered Mary, in a tone +which was meant to be dignified, but was only stiff; "I don't know that +I care about teaching any one who has such an opinion of me as you seem +to entertain. I thought I had one friend at least in the school, but +it seems I was mistaken!" And Mary's wounded feelings and temper—two +things which are apt to get very much mixed up together—found vent in a +flood of tears. + +"Nonsense!" said Calista, vexed in her turn. "Mary, you are too absurd. +You are always lecturing me, and I am content you should; but the +minute I say a word to you, you flare up in this way. I should think I +had enough to put up with, without your turning on me. I don't know but +that is the 'spirit of Christ,'" she concluded, alluding to the verse +Mary had repeated in the morning, "but I must say it does not seem much +like it to me." + +And with this parting shot, which was a sufficiently sharp one, Calista +went away and left Mary to her own reflections. + +"Dear me!" she said to herself, in some natural impatience. "It does +seem as if I never could be comfortable half an hour together. Who +would ever have thought of her taking matters in that way!" + +If Calista was uncomfortable, Mary was still more so. She was really +trying very hard to be a Christian, but on this particular point she +had never learned to know herself, or to call things by their right +names. She had often said to herself that she did not love money, or +fine clothes, or gay amusements—all of which was true—therefore she +did not love the world. But "the world" takes a great many shapes, +and creeps in at a great many holes and corners; and whatever petty +disguises it may put on, it is the same world still, the intimate ally +and friend of "the flesh and the devil." + +Praise was Mary's "world"—appreciation she called it. She loved to +stand well in the eyes of other people, to be called the best scholar +and the neatest worker in school, the model member of the catechism +class in church. She liked to know that she was pointed out as an +example of early piety by the pastor, as a good sister and daughter at +home. She loved the praise of men, and that love, as it always does, +was beginning to spring up and bear fruit—poison fruit, which, if the +vine was not plucked up by the roots, threatened to choke the word and +make it unfruitful, as surely as the deceitfulness of riches would have +done. It was coming to that with her that she did not like to have any +one praised but herself—that she felt all commendation of another as so +much taken from her own share. + +Miss McPherson had praised Mary's homely work more than her own +exquisite netted fringe. That very morning, in the French class, she +had told Anabella Adair that she had improved very much in accent and +style, and had only included herself in the "very well, my dears," +addressed to the whole class. And now, to crown all, she had given the +charge of the little ones to Calista, who had not only taught them, +but interested and amused them as well. No doubt the ungrateful little +things were saying at that moment that they liked Miss Stanfield better +than Miss Settson—very likely they would say so to Miss Meeks and Miss +McPherson. Mary almost felt as though she could never come to school or +speak to Calista again. + +John Bunyan, with that wonderful experimental knowledge which seems +like inspiration, says that one leak is enough to sink a ship, and one +sin to destroy a sinner. There is no doubt at all that one known and +acknowledged sin is enough to undermine the Christian character of the +best saint that ever lived, if it is indulged or harbored after its +true character comes to be known. + +Mary had, for some time, had an uneasiness as to this very matter. She +felt that here was her weak point, but she did not like to examine +and make sure of it, which was as wise as if a ship's captain should +refuse to examine a suspected spar or defective cable. She was strong +everywhere else, and she did not consider that the weakest link—not the +strongest—measures the strength of the chain. Even now she was made +aware that she had been unkind to Calista and unjust to Miss McPherson, +but she would not acknowledge to herself that the root of the trouble +lay in her inordinate love of praise. No, Calista had provoked her and +Miss McPherson had taken pains to mortify her, but it was her duty to +overlook it, and she would do so by treating Calista just as usual, +even by offering to show her the fan stitch—no, she would not do that, +either; but if Calista asked her again, she would not refuse. + +Smoothing matters over in this fashion was not the way to attain peace, +and Mary was destined to have a still harsher lesson. + +Calista ran up to Miss Meeks's room and tapped lightly, opening the +door in answer to the summons from within. She found Miss Meeks up and +dressed. She looked pale and worn, but declared herself quite able to +come down stairs. + +"I thought I would just tell you that the little girls behaved very +well and said their lessons nicely," said Calista. + +"Did they? I am very glad. I think they are usually good, though I fear +I am sometimes sharp with them. Did they say their English kings?" + +"Yes, ma'am, nicely; and I told them about King Alfred and the +oat-cakes, to reward them. Was that right?" + +"Quite right. I often wish I possessed the talent for narration +which some people have. It is quite invaluable in dealing with young +children. Will you please fasten my dress, my dear? I am glad you +succeeded in interesting the children," continued Miss Meeks. "I shall, +perhaps, ask you to help me again, some day. Miss Settson is very good +and conscientious, but she has an unfortunate manner with children." + +"I am sure I shall be glad to help you at any time, Miss Meeks," said +Calista, as they went down stairs together. "But I am surprised to hear +you say that about Mary. I thought she did everything better than any +one else—let alone poor me." + +"It is not to be denied that she does a great many things better than +'poor you,'" replied Miss Meeks, with a smile, which was not at all +severe this time. "Keeping her desk in order and copying her exercises, +among others. But different people have different gifts, you know." + +"I am sure I am glad if teaching is one of mine," observed Calista. "It +seems the only way for a lady to earn a living nowadays." + +"Surely there will be no necessity for that," said Miss Meeks. "I +supposed you were your aunt's heir as a matter of course." + +"Oh dear, no," answered Calista. "My aunt barely tolerates my +existence. I should not be one bit surprised at her throwing me on my +own resources any day. So, Miss Meeks, I shall be glad if you will let +me help you at any time, not only because I like to be of use, but +because I like to learn all I can." + +Unluckily, this speech was overheard by Antoinette Diaments. Antoinette +hated Calista with all the venom of a small and mean nature, because +of the scrape she had gotten into about Tessy's change; though Calista +had nothing to do with the transaction, beyond being an accidental +witness of it. Moreover, Antoinette considered Miss Meeks as her own +particular property, and had hitherto, as we have said, succeeded in +keeping that lady very much in the dark as to her real character. She, +therefore, instantly resolved to "put a spoke in Calista's wheel," as +she elegantly expressed it. + +"Well, Calista, I should think you would be ashamed to ask such a thing +of Miss Meeks, after the way you were talking and laughing about her +not half an hour ago." + +Miss Meeks's pale cheek flushed, and she cast one of her old suspicious +glances at Calista. + +"Antoinette, what do you mean?" exclaimed Calista. "I have not said a +word to any one but Mary Settson about Miss Meeks." + +"Just so; and you were laughing with her about Miss Meeks's throne and +sceptre. I heard you myself." + +"You can ask Mary about it, Miss Meeks," said Calista. "Here she is. +Mary, Antoinette says I was laughing about Miss Meeks to you this +morning. Is that true?" + +Calista spoke with a trust in Mary's uprightness as firm as her trust +in the ground she walked on. But even the ground is sometimes shaken. +Mary had opened the gate of her heart to the world, and the world in +turn opened to its friend the devil. If the ground had, indeed, opened +under her feet, Calista could not have been more astounded than she was +when Mary answered: + +"I don't know, of course, whether you were laughing at her or not. You +certainly were laughing when you told me that you had been sitting in +her throne and wielding her sceptre, and when you told how you went to +her room and found her sick." + +Calista's face grew pale, and then flushed with honest indignation and +wounded feeling. + +"Mary!" + +It was all she said. Miss Meeks looked keenly from one to another. +She was clear-sighted enough when not blinded by prejudice or by the +irritability of suppressed suffering, and she knew Mary's weakness far +better than did Mary herself. + +"I shall believe what you say, Calista," said she. "Did you mean to +turn me into ridicule or not?" + +"No, Miss Meeks, I never thought of such a thing—never." said Calista, +with emphasis. "I did use those words, as any one might; but I no more +thought of turning you into ridicule, or above all laughing about your +illness, than I should think of laughing about my own dead mother." + +"I believe you," said Miss Meeks. "You have your faults, but I never +knew untruth to be one of them. To show you that I trust you, I shall, +if agreeable to you, request Miss McPherson to allow you to sit with me +in the small room this afternoon and oversee the children's work." + +"Thank you, Miss Meeks; I shall like it very much," said Calista, and +she turned away and followed the teacher into the dining-room, without +so much as looking at Mary. + +She usually enjoyed the school dinners, which, if plain, were abundant +and dealt out without stint; but to-day her roast mutton and cherry +pie tart seemed to choke her. That Mary should use her so! She did not +wonder at Antoinette; but Mary—Mary, whom she had looked upon as the +very pattern and exemplar of all that was good, and loved with the +passionate love of a first friendship. It seemed to Calista as if she +would never believe in anybody again. + +If Calista was sorrowful, Mary herself was utterly wretched. At first +she had tried to excuse herself to herself—to gloss the matter over as +she had done with a good many things lately; but it would not do. She +felt that she had told a lie, and meant to tell one, though every word +she had said had been literally true. Calista had used these words, +and had laughed as she did so; but Mary knew well enough that she had +conveyed a false impression, and meant to convey one; that Calista had +not laughed at Miss Meeks, but on the contrary had spoken of her with +the greatest kindness. + +Ever since she had first been awakened in religious matters, Mary had +cultivated the habit (and a most useful and excellent one it is) of +retiring a few minutes at noon for self-examination and prayer. As she +entered her room this day, she was strongly tempted to omit her usual +exercise, and hurry down stairs; but the habit was too strong for her. +She sat down in her usual place, and almost mechanically opened her +Bible. + + "If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy +brother hath aught against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar, +and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and +offer thy gift." (Matt. 5:23, 24.) + +Mary shut her book almost impatiently, and opened again. + + "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any +man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." (1 John +2:15.) + +There was not much comfort in that, either. She wished to find some +"promise" on which she might dwell and meditate or imagine herself into +a state of complacency; but One was dealing with her who would allow no +such comfortable self-deception. She was, as it were, set down before +the mirror of truth and made to see herself, and that in despite of +her will to the contrary. What had she done? She had been envious of +another's pleasure and honor, and she had allowed herself to indulge in +a slanderous misrepresentation to injure her best friend, because that +friend had been accidentally preferred before her. Nor was she allowed +to take refuge in the idea that she had been overcome by a sudden and +irresistible temptation. She knew better. Her fall had not been sudden, +as indeed such falls seldom are. + +Looking back, she could see that she had been preparing the way for +just such a failure. It was true, as Calista said: she had allowed +herself to indulge in that envy which eats like a canker. She had not +liked to hear any one praised but herself for a long time past. She had +done her work in school and at home, not for her Lord and Master, but +that she might be seen of men. + +The same was true of her charitable work among the poor children whom +she taught and helped to clothe. She had been provoked downright when +Mrs. Lee showed her the pretty and useful little dress which Belle +Adair had made out of one of her own for poor Chloe Jackson's youngest +girl, and she turned scarlet as she remembered how she had taken +occasion to say that Belle was a very gay girl who would never listen +to a serious word. + +And now she had wounded Calista to the heart, and disgraced herself +in the eyes of her teacher and herself, all for what? Because Calista +had been asked to do, and had done well, something which she did not +like, and never undertook willingly. Calista had been praised, that was +enough. + +"Oh, what shall I do! What shall I do!" said Mary, almost aloud, and +with bitter tears of grief and self-abasement. She opened her Bible and +read again: + + "Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do +the first works." (Rev. 2:5.) + +And again: + + "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is +not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive +us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:8, +9.) + +Clearly this was the right and only way to peace. Mary knelt down and +then and there confessed this her besetting sin, asked for deliverance +and forgiveness, and that cleansing promised to all who seek it. She +did not deceive herself now, but called things by right, plain Bible +names—envy, emulation, slander, detraction. + +There is an old fairy tale found in almost every language, which has +always seemed to me to shadow forth a great truth. It is that of a man +beset by a demon or malign imp of some sort, for whom he is obliged to +perform all sorts of hard tasks and pay all sorts of penalties, till +he succeeds in discovering the true name of his tormentor, after which +the thing has no more power, but flies discomfited. Mary had called her +demons by their right names, and their power was broken for that time, +at least. + +She was still on her knees when she was interrupted by a knock at the +door and a call of: + +"Miss Mary!" + +"Yes, Miranda; what is it?" asked Mary, without opening the door. + +"Oh, nothing, only your pa and Miss Alice have gone out to old Mrs. +Skovell's, at Greenwich, and won't be back till night. I thought maybe +you wouldn't care about much dinner alone, so I just got you a cup of +chocolate and a strawberry short-cake and some sandwiches. But I can +cook some meat if you'd rather have it." + +"No, thank you, Miranda; I would rather have the chocolate than +anything. I am in a hurry to get back to school." + +Mary did not feel like eating, but she took a cup of chocolate and a +piece of the tempting short-cake, to spare Miranda's feelings, and +hastened back to school. She went straight to the little school-room, +where she knew she would find Miss Meeks. That lady looked up, when she +entered, in surprise and some displeasure. She did not like to have her +hour of leisure interrupted. + +"Miss Meeks," said Mary, in a voice which trembled a good deal, "I have +come to tell you that what I said about Calista this morning was not +true. She did use those words, but there was no disrespect in the way +she used them, and I am sure she meant none. She was very much pleased +because she succeeded so well, and I—" Mary's voice faltered, but she +steadied it and went on—"I was provoked because she succeeded, and +envious and jealous of her being praised." + +"So I saw," said Miss Meeks. "I am very glad you have come to a sense +of your fault, Mary. I hope it will be a lesson to you to check the +beginnings of a spirit of detraction, and I doubt not it will. I shall +have to ask your help this afternoon, after all, for I am not feeling +well." + +"I am sure I shall be very glad to help you," answered Mary, swallowing +a great lump of pride which would rise in her throat at that "after +all." "But where is Calista?" + +"Oh, she has gone home. Her aunt sent for her. I felt sorry for her, +for I think she anticipated something not very pleasant. I fancy her +aunt is an odd-tempered woman." + +"Odd-tempered is no name for it," said Mary. + +"Oh, well, I am sorry for her. I have had some experience. I don't know +how it is," added Miss Meeks, musingly, "but all my life long it has +been my fate to live with odd-tempered people." + +Mary could not help thinking that this fate was one likely to follow +Miss Meeks as long as she retained the infirmities of mortality; but +she said nothing, and busied herself with the basket of patchwork on +which the youngest children were learning to use their fingers. She had +had too plain and too recent a view of her own faults and infirmities +to be very hard on those of other people. + + + +CHAPTER NINTH. + +THE STORM BREAKS. + +MISS MEEKS was right. It was with no pleasant anticipations that +Calista took her seat in the rickety chaise which her aunt had sent for +her. Old David, who drove, was evidently in a state of deep and dire +offence, and nothing could be got out of him except that Miss Priscy +was in one of her tantrums, and if Chloe was a-going to stand such +goings on any longer, he wasn't. + +Calista alighted and went straight up the back stairs to her own room, +hoping for a few minutes of solitude in which to collect her spirits. +She was disappointed. The door of a certain store-room opposite her +own, which was usually kept fast locked, was open, and in it stood +Miss Priscilla, clearly in a "tantrum" of the worst sort. Her face was +flushed, her cap half off her head, and her gray hair all in disorder. +Opposite her stood Miss Druett, more disturbed in appearance than was +at all usual with her. Miss Priscilla faced round as Calista came +across the passage, and caught her by the arm with a grip that seemed +to crush the very bone. + +"So, here she is," she said, through her set teeth. "This fine young +lady, who prowls about the house, prying and meddling, to see what she +can steal. A worthy daughter of Richard Stanfield and his low-born +scheming wife!" + +"Take your hand off my arm, Aunt Priscilla!" said Calista, in a voice +which sounded strange to herself. "Do you hear me?" + +Miss Priscilla released her arm; but it was only to pour out a renewed +flood of abuse, directed to Calista herself, her father and mother, +Miss McPherson, and every one else for whom Calista had any regard, +or with whom she had any connection. At last, as she paused to take +breath, Calista said coolly,— + +"Well, now, I should like to know what all this is about?" + +"About!" Miss Priscilla fairly gasped. "You dare to ask such a +question?" + +"It does not take any particular bravery that I know of," answered +Calista, whose own blood was up by this time. "When one sees an old +lady raving like a mad woman, one naturally likes to know the reason, +if she has any." + +"Calista!" said Miss Druett, warningly. + +"Tell me, you—you spy and traitor—did you not go into the back parlor +and pull over the book-cases, and into my father's room? Tell me this +instant. Dare you deny it?" + +"Why should I deny it?" asked Calista. "Where was the harm? I was here +alone, and I went to look for something to amuse myself with, and to +see what there was in the house." + +"And what did you carry off? What did you steal?" + +"As it happened, there was nothing in the book-case I looked into +that was worth stealing, unless it were this old working-case," said +Calista, producing the article in question from her pocket. "That has a +good pair of small scissors in it, and I want a pair, so I took them to +use. There they are, if you want them." + +Miss Priscilla snatched the case from her hand. + +"So, you took it to school, did you? Well, you won't take anything else +to school very soon. You have had all the schooling you will get for +some time, my fine lady. I will find you plenty of work at home." + +Miss Priscilla turned into the little store-room, and began taking down +the dusty, moth-eaten garments with which the walls were plentifully +hung. Calista followed her into the room, reckless of consequences, for +she had caught sight of something which made her forget everything, +even her aunt's rage. The something was a pile of two or three +trunks—old-fashioned heavy leather portmanteaus—marked on the end +"Calista Folsom." + +Calista remembered them on the instant. They were the very trunks Miss +Malvina had shown her, and on which she had made the little girl spell +out the name, so many years ago. + +"My mother's trunks!" exclaimed Calista, feeling as if she must have +them, whether or no. "My own mother's things! Oh, Aunt Priscilla, let +me have them, and I will do anything for you—anything you tell me!" + +"Oh, you will!" said Miss Priscilla, with a malicious smile. "You are +very submissive all at once. I fancy, before we have done, you will do +what I tell you without any trunks." + +"For shame, Priscilla!" said Miss Druett's deep voice. "How can you +expose yourself so? The child has done no harm. She has not even been +disobedient, that I see, though she may have been indiscreet. Let her +have her mother's trunks—she has the best right to them—and say no more +about the matter." + +"How dare you!" said Miss Priscilla, turning furiously upon her. "You +are no better than she. Do you think I don't know you? Don't I know how +you fell in love with Richard Stanfield and tried to get him, though he +cared no more for you than for his old shoes, and so you take the part +of his girl now. You shall leave my house. Yes, all of you. I won't +have such a crew of spies and thieves about me any longer." + +Miss Druett looked straight at Priscilla all the time she was speaking, +without uttering a word or moving a muscle of her countenance. Then she +said quite calmly, without a tremor in her singular, musically harsh +voice: + +"Very well, Priscilla; you shall not tell me twice to leave your house +after all these years. But I advise you to think again before you +disgrace yourself without remedy." + +So saying, she went into her own room and shut the door. + +Miss Priscilla looked after her a moment. Then she pushed Calista into +her own room, and threw after her a heap of the musty-smelling woollen +garments which she had taken down from the nails. + +"There is some fancy work for you, since you want amusement," said she. +"You shall cut every one of them into carpet-rags before you leave that +room." + +She closed the door, and Calista heard her lock that and the room +opposite before she went down stairs. + +Calista, though she had been so cool with her aunt, was in a tempest of +rage and mortification. She had never met with any personal violence +before, except a box on the ear now and then when she was a little +girl. And now to be so insulted and degraded before the servants; +to hear her father and mother abused and slandered; to see her own +mother's property, and not to be allowed to touch it,—it was too much. +Her head swam, her eyes seemed full to bursting, and she felt as though +she could have killed Aunt Priscilla on the spot. A burst of tears came +at last to her relief. She cried passionately for a long time, till her +mood calmed itself. And she began to consider her situation and think +what she had better do. + +Look at it as she would, she could not see that she had done anything +very wrong. True, she had put the working-case in her pocket, but she +certainly had no intention of stealing it; and though she had been +tempted to take the gold pieces, she had not touched them with her +little finger. She did not feel that she had wronged Miss Priscilla in +any way. Neither could she feel under any obligation to her. Kindness +she had had none, and as to support, it was clear from Mr. Settson's +story that her grandfather had intended to give her father his share +of the estate, which, therefore, owed her much more than the bare +maintenance she had received from it. + +She felt that she could not stay longer with Miss Priscilla if Miss +Druett went away, and that she would go Calista was pretty sure. At +last she made up her mind. She would go to Mr. Settson, lay the whole +matter before him, and be guided by his advice. At another time she +would have looked forward with pleasure to residing in his family, but +Mary's conduct in the morning had thrown a cloud over that prospect. +Perhaps Miss McPherson would let her live in the school for the help +she would give Miss Meeks and Miss Jessie. Miss Priscilla could not +keep her shut up always, and as soon as she was at liberty, she would +hasten to town, lay the case before her best friends, and be guided by +their opinion. + +Having settled this matter in her mind, Calista felt comfortable. She +bathed her eyes, arranged her hair and her dress, and looked about for +something wherewith to divert herself. She could not perform the task +of cutting carpet-rags, even if she had been so disposed, for the very +sufficient reason that she had no scissors; so she hung the garments +away in a disused closet, after examining the pockets of the coats, in +one of which she actually found an old sixpence. + +"Really, what a treasure!" said Calista. "I think I will hand it over +to Aunt Priscilla; or shall I buy a lead pencil with it?" + +There was nothing else to be found except an old pocketbook, which +contained nothing whatever. + +She took down her treasured "Cecelia" from its niche; but even the +story of the silver gauze and the trouble resulting from its purchase +could not fix her attention, so she took out her knitting, and found a +more effectual diversion in the intricacies of feather stitch. + +Calista had almost forgotten her trouble for the moment, when the door +was unlocked, and Chloe put her head into the room. + +"You are to go down to supper, Miss Calista, if that is any great +privilege," said she. + +"Who says so?" asked Calista. + +"Miss Priscilla. She says you are to come down now. Reckon she's afraid +to stay alone any longer. Well, I know one thing—if I didn't believe in +the Lord, I wouldn't be so dreadful afraid of the devil." + +"Perhaps you would, now," said Calista, as she took up her work and +prepared to go down stairs. "I rather think those who fear the Lord +most are just those who have fewest fears of anything else." + +"I reckon you are about right there," said Chloe. "Anyhow, I know one +thing: I ain't a-going to stay here much longer. But I must go and get +supper." + +Calista descended to the sitting-room, wondering what kind of a +reception she should meet, and determining if her aunt laid hands on +her again, to leave the house at once. But Miss Priscilla's mood had +worked itself out for the time. + +"Well, Miss Stanfield—so you have condescended to come down?" said she, +in the bitter, sarcastic tone in which she usually spoke to her niece. +"And, pray, how many carpet-rags have you cut this afternoon." + +"None at all," answered Calista, concisely. + +"Oh! I suppose such work is not fine enough for your mother's daughter." + +"Neither my mother's daughter nor any one else can cut carpet-rags +without scissors, and you know very well I have none," answered Calista. + +"Oh! Is it possible? But if you had them, no doubt you would not use +them. Of course, Miss Folsom's daughter would not stoop to anything +so ungenteel. She must keep her hands white and soft, so that she may +catch a rich husband, like her mother." + +"Miss Stanfield," said Calista firmly, "if you say another word about +my mother, I will leave this house and never enter it again while you +are in it!" + +Miss Priscilla looked at Calista, as she stood tall and stately in her +young beauty, and seemed to think she had gone far enough. + +"Don't be a fool, child," said she. "Sit down and be quiet! Who cares +for your mother?" + +"I do!" said Calista, firmly. "And I will not hear her abused." + +"Well, well, sit down! What is that in your hand?" + +"The knitting I am doing for Miss McPherson." + +Miss Priscilla gave a kind of grunt, and the two sat in silence till +Chloe came in to set the table. + +Now, setting a tea-table is, in itself considered, an act of a peaceful +and even softening nature; but Chloe converted it into a declaration of +war by her manner of performing the same. She reproached Miss Stanfield +with the bread, upbraided her with the butter, defied her with the +milk, and, so to speak, threw at her head every article she put down. +She knew that Miss Stanfield detested anything like a clatter, and she +hit every spoon against every other spoon and every dish against every +other dish on the table. She made separate journeys to the kitchen for +everything she wanted, and slammed more doors than would have been +supposed to be in the famous palace of the one-eyed Calender. + +"Supper is ready!" said Chloe at last, when she could by no possibility +spin her preparations out any longer. + +"Well, why don't you ring the bell, then?" asked Miss Priscilla, +fretfully. "Where is Miss Druett?" + +"Miss Druett ain't a-coming down!" answered Chloe. + +"Not coming down! Why not?" + +"She says she is too busy. And I have took her tea up to her." + +"Why, what is she doing?" asked Miss Priscilla. + +"She is a-taking of her things out of her drawers and a-looking of them +over, and a-laying of them in her trunks," answered Chloe, with great +deliberation and an evident enjoyment of her words and of the annoyance +produced by them. "David and me has brought her trunks down out of +the garret, and David is a-going to take the biggest of 'em over to +Cohansey to be mended when he goes in the morning. And I have took her +tea up to her room, and she is a-drinking of it there, so there is no +use of waiting for her." + +Miss Priscilla took her place at the tea-board with an impatient—"Well, +there, you may go!" + +And Chloe retired, firing off another volley of what Mr. Sydney Smith +calls "wooden swearing," on her way to her own quarters. + +Miss Priscilla did not like to make her own tea, and that for an odd +reason. She liked it very sweet, and she never could bring herself to +put in as much sugar as she wanted. However, she poured out the weak +beverage and handed a cup to Calista, who received it with a formal +"Thank you." + +No more was said till, to her surprise, Miss Priscilla asked Calista if +she would have another cup of tea. + +"If you please," said Calista, with equally formal politeness, +determined to give no opening for another outbreak if she could help it. + +Not another word was spoken. + +Miss Priscilla composed herself for her usual nap, and Calista was +about to leave the room when she was recalled by a— + +"Don't go. Sit here with your work," which she could not but think had +something rather imploring in its tone. + +"I wonder whether she really is afraid to stay alone," thought Calista, +as she resumed her seat. + +She knitted in silence till it was too dark to see; and then, leaning +on the window-seat, she meditated on the various things which had +happened during the day. + +She was gaining the mastery over her own spirit. Mary had treated her +not only unkindly, but, what was much worse, treacherously; for she +argued with herself that it was impossible for Mary so to misunderstand +her as to think that she was really laughing at Miss Meeks. Mary had +been at once her idol and her pattern for nearly two years; a pattern +unapproachable in its perfection, it was true, but still her model +of all that was good and lovely. And now that idol was fallen—a very +Dagon—in helpless ruin, and the fair model was chipped and stained—no +more to be a model, but only a sad warning. As Calista thought of it, +in her girlish exaggeration and passion, she said to herself, more than +once, "I wish she had died, like poor little Julia Lawrence, last year." + +Calista did not know what death meant, any more than any other young +creature who has only seen it at a distance. It is curious, but, I +believe, quite true, that young people are apt to think of death just +in this way, as an easy method of escape. She did not realize what +it would be to have no Mary anywhere within reach; no possibility of +explanation or "making up;" no possibility of finding Mary any more, +though she should go all over the world to look for her. + +She was but a child, after all, with a child's experiences. Still, as +she thought of the dead girl, with whom she had had a merry game only +the day before she had seen her laid out on her narrow white bed, her +heart grew soft toward her friend, and she said to herself that she +would try to forgive Mary. + +"I am sure she will be sorry when she thinks about it," she said to +herself. "I need forgiveness enough myself, for that matter; and Mary +has done nothing worse than I was tempted to do. To be sure, I was not +overcome by the temptation; but that was no thanks to me." + +And then Calista went back to her childish days, and began to recall +all she could remember about them and Miss Malvina. + +"I am sure those are mother's trunks. I remember Miss Malvina making +me spell out the name on the end—'Calista Folsom'—and telling me that +it was my dear mother's name, and that those were her things. Oh, if I +could only get possession of them! I mean to ask Mr. Settson if there +is anything to be done. There, Aunt Priscilla is waking up." + +In fact, Miss Priscilla roused herself and Chloe brought in the candles +at one and the same moment. + +"Druey—why, where is Druey?" asked Miss Priscilla, rubbing her eyes. +"Chloe, where is Miss Druett?" + +"She is up in her room, and she ain't a-coming down to-night, either," +was Chloe's answer, as she slapped down first the candlesticks and then +the snuffer-tray. "I've took her up a candle, half an hour ago." + +"But she must come down. What does she think I am going to do all the +evening? Go up to her, Chloe, and tell her—no, ask her if she isn't +coming down to play cribbage." + +"Oh, well, I can go, of course," said Chloe, "but it won't do any good." + +She departed on her errand, accordingly, and returned with the message +that Miss Druett was very tired and must be excused to-night. + +Miss Priscilla fretted, and all but cried, like a child deprived of a +plaything. + +"And you are no good—no good at all," she said to Calista. "I don't +suppose you could ever learn cribbage." + +"I don't know, I am sure," answered Calista; and then, moved by a +feeling of compassion for which she could hardly account herself, she +added, "but I will try, Aunt Priscilla, if it will amuse you to teach +me." + +Miss Priscilla seemed to think even the prospect of teaching Calista +better than no game at all, and the board was set out. But cribbage +is a difficult game to learn under the most favorable circumstances. +Perhaps Miss Priscilla was not a patient or skillful teacher, or +Calista was more than usually dull. Certain it is that after a short +trial, she abandoned the attempt in despair. + +"There, it is of no use, I never could teach anybody anything. Put the +things away, child." + +"I am sorry," said Calista, and she really was sorry to see the poor +withered, peevish woman deprived of one of the very few pleasures she +allowed herself; "perhaps if I were to try again—" + +"No, no, never mind. Take your knitting. It is very good-natured of +you, though, I must allow." + +Calista listened in amazement. It was literally the very first word of +commendation she had ever received Aunt Priscilla. She took up her work +again, and the two sat in silence till Miss Priscilla said, abruptly +but not angrily— + +"Calista, what made you go into that room?" + +"Only curiosity," answered Calista. "I was looking in the book-case, +and picked out some old books and papers to read. Then I tried the door +of grandfather's room and found it would open, so I went in to see what +was there." + +"And what did you see there? Come, tell me," said Miss Priscilla, +almost coaxingly. + +"Surely, aunt, you know what is there as well as I do, or better." + +"Well, never mind that. Tell me what you saw." + +"A great many moths, for one thing," said Calista; "the carpet is full +of them. And I saw a picture which I suppose was one of grandfather's +wives; a fair woman, with light hair rolled on a cushion." + +"Yes, that is your grandmother. Well?" + +"And I saw another picture, a miniature of a young boy, which I suppose +was my father." + +"Well, and what else?" asked Miss Priscilla, as Calista paused. "My +father's desk is there; did you look into it?" + +"I did," answered Calista, briefly, determined to tell the truth at all +risks. + +"Well, what did you find? Don't be afraid to tell me." + +"I am not afraid," answered Calista. "I saw a good many old papers—I +don't know what they were. Then I saw an old seal lying in one of the +pigeon-holes, and took it up to look at it. Then I put my hand back in +the hole to see if there was anything else, and in so doing I touched +the spring that opened the cupboard door where the gold pieces are. +Then I shut it all up and went up to my own room." + +"Gold!" said Miss Priscilla, sitting up straight and startled in her +chair. "What gold?" + +"The gold pieces in the little cupboard, aunt. Did not you know they +were there?" + +"I! No, indeed! I have never touched a thing in the desk since my +father died—never been into the room since he was buried. How much gold +was there?" + +"I don't know; I did not count it: six or seven gold pieces—English, I +should think." + +"Where is the cupboard?" demanded Miss Priscilla, her eyes glittering +and her face flushed with excitement. + +"In the desk, as I told you," answered Calista; "it is in one side of +the desk, over the little drawers and shelves. Nobody would think it +was there." + +"Then I dare say there is one on the other side just like it. I suppose +you did not look to see?" + +"No, I did not. When I saw the money, I did not wish to meddle any +further." + +"Calista," said Miss Priscilla, in a low, trembling tone, and laying +her hand on Calista's arm, "you need not cut any carpet-rags, unless +you like." + +"Thank you," said Calista, dryly. + +"And—and you may go to school to-morrow, and—and the rest of the term, +if you will only go and bring me those gold pieces, and whatever else +you can find in your grandfather's desk." + +"I would rather not, aunt," answered Calista, proudly. "There might +not be quite as many as I said, and then you would think I had stolen +them. And, by the way, here is a sixpence I found in the house this +afternoon." + +Habit stretched out Miss Priscilla's lean fingers to the sixpence, and +greed of greater gain drew them back. + +"You may keep the sixpence, child—only don't waste it—and perhaps I +will give you more some time. No, I won't think you stole anything. +Come, do go and bring that gold. It isn't safe. Some one else might +find it." + +"Why not go yourself, aunt?" asked Calista, surprised at her aunt's +pertinacity. "I will hold the light for you, if that will do any good." + +"No, no, I cannot, I dare not," quavered Miss Priscilla. "He might not +like it—but he would not mind you." + +"He! Who?" + +"Your grandfather, child. No, no, I can't go in, but you will go. Come, +now, I know you will." + +"Very well, I will go," said Calista. "Even if my grandfather were +there, he has no reason to be angry with me. I have never gone against +his will, or kept from him anything he ought to have known. Let me take +the candle, and I will go." + +Notwithstanding Calista's bold words, she could not restrain a tremor +when she found herself alone in the large, lofty, gloomy room. She +was, however, no coward to give way to groundless fear, superstitious +or otherwise. She set down her candle and opened the desk deliberately +enough and began her search for the secret spring. Still she could not +get rid of the feeling that some one or something was watching her. +She was sure she heard a subdued stir somewhere, and, glancing toward +the opening in the shutters, she felt almost certain that an eye was +looking down upon her. + +She looked again—a straight, steady look. Nothing was to be seen, and +she smiled at her own fancy. + +"What a goose I am!" she said to herself, as she found and touched the +spring which opened the secret cupboard. + +The door flew open, and there lay the pieces as she had left them, +eight in number. + +She felt all round the cupboard, but there was nothing more. Further +search, however, developed a corresponding recess on the other side, +containing another gold piece, a lady's old-fashioned gold watch, with +a heavy chain and seals, and two or three ornaments set with amethyst +and pearls—pretty, but of no great value. + +Calista collected all in her handkerchief, and, assuring herself by a +hasty search that there was nothing more, she closed the desk and took +up her candle. At that moment she heard a slight rustle, and looking up +she saw, or fancied she saw, the same eye at the hole in the shutters +watching her movements. She walked straight toward the window, holding +up the candle, but there was nothing to be seen. + +"It must have been a reflection in the glass, or perhaps a cat looking +in," she said to herself. "One might found a good story on it." + +Miss Priscilla was sitting in an attitude of expectation, and started +nervously as Calista entered. She gave a childish cry of delight as +Calista laid the handkerchief open before her. + +"You are a good girl, Calista—a very good girl!" said she, in a +fluttered manner. "Let me see—two, four, five; yes, eight guineas—and +that is your grandmother's watch. You shall have it when—when you are +old enough to wear it properly. School-girls don't wear watches, you +know." + +"But you might let me keep it, aunt," said Calista, mischievously. "It +would be very convenient to have in my room." + +"No, no! You would lose it; or some one might steal it. You shall have +it when—when you are old enough. And, mind you, don't tell any of the +school-girls about these things." + +"Then I am to go to school again!" said Calista. + +"Why, yes—yes. You can go to the end of this term, and then we will see +about it. Call Chloe; I want to go to bed. And don't you think you had +better let me have that sixpence to take care of for you?" + + + +CHAPTER TENTH. + +MISS DRUETT. + +CERTAINLY Miss Priscilla was disturbed "by ordinary," as Miss Jessy +would have said, or she would never have gone up to bed leaving +Calista below. Usually she was driven off to her room with about as +much ceremony as a cow dismissed to her night's lodging. While she was +setting back her chair, and wondering whether she ought to go round and +see to the fastenings of doors and windows—a ceremony usually performed +by Miss Druett with great care and minuteness—Miss Druett herself +entered the room. She looked pale and tired, and Calista thought she +had been crying, but her eyes were as bright and her lips as firm and +resolute as ever. + +"So you are here alone!" said she. "I heard Priscilla in her room, and +I thought I would come down and see to the fastenings." + +"Thank you ever so much," said Calista. "I was just wondering what I +ought to do about it; and to tell you the truth," she added, lowering +her voice, "I did not quite fancy the task of going round alone, for I +could not help thinking there was someone prying about the house this +evening." + +"Indeed! What reason had you for thinking so? But never mind now. You +shall tell me up stairs in my room, for I want a little talk with you +before you go to bed. Meantime, if you are not afraid, you can go round +with me and hold the light." + +"Who will do this when you are gone?" said Calista, struck with the +thought as Miss Druett tried the fastening of bolt and bar in the great +dusky kitchen. + +Miss Druett sighed. "I don't know who will do a great many things," +said she. "I fear Priscilla will miss me more than she thinks." + +"She missed you enough this evening, I am sure of that," said Calista. +"She almost cried because there was no one to play cribbage with her. I +offered to try to learn, but I think I must be very stupid, for I could +make nothing of it. However, she did not scold me, and it helped to +pass away a part of the time." + +"Cribbage is a very intricate game, and Priscilla never had any faculty +of teaching. I think, Calista, if you are not tired, we will go through +the cellars—all at least that are unlocked. I should like to make sure +of them." + +"What a castle of a place it is!" said Calista, holding up her light +and surveying the long gallery, floored with brick, and with heavy +doors opening on either hand. "It looks like something in an old +romance. What is in all these cellars, Miss Druett?" + +"Nothing at all in most of them," answered Miss Druett. "There is some +silver plate and china packed away in this one, and a good deal of +valuable wine in that further one, at the end of the hall." + +"Here is a door bricked up," said Calista. "What is that?" + +"That is another small wine-cellar which has a history," answered Miss +Druett. "When your father was born, your grandfather had just received +a quantity of very fine Madeira, which had made the voyage to India. He +ordered two small casks to be placed in this cellar and built up as you +see, saying that one should be opened on his son's marriage, and the +other at the weaning of his eldest child." + +"And it has staid there, undisturbed, all this time," said Calista. +"Father and grandfather are both gone, but the wine stays on. Perhaps +it is just as well there as anywhere else. I sometimes think so much +wine drinking is not very desirable." + +"More people than you are beginning to think so," said Miss Druett. +"Well, as everything is safe for the night, we may leave these old +vaults to the centipedes and the efts." "Affets" she called them. + +"See, there is one now!" said Calista, pointing out the little red +lizard running up the wall. "Are affets poison, Miss Druett?" + +"I don't know, child. I never ate one," answered Miss Druett, absently. +Then, as Calista laughed,—"I do not know what I am saying. No, I don't +think any lizards are venomous, though, I dare say, they might bite, +like other creatures, if alarmed or provoked. Are you very tired? Do +you want to go to bed directly?" + +"No, ma'am," answered Calista. "Not if I can do anything for you." + +"Come into my room and sit down a little. I have something to say to +you, and I may not have another chance." + +Calista obeyed. + +The usually neat room was not disorderly—for nothing about Miss Druett +could be that—but disarranged. A great trunk, nearly filled, stood +open at the foot of the bed; a picture, which had always hung above +the fireplace, was taken down; and some books were missing from their +places. Miss Druett cleared a chair for Calista and took another +herself, but she did not seem in a hurry to begin the conversation. + +"Are you really going, Miss Druett?" asked Calista, presently, seeing +that she did not speak. + +"I have no choice, child, as things are at present. I have borne a +great deal from Priscilla, and if I staid, I should, no doubt, bear a +great deal more; but you must see yourself that I cannot remain in her +house after she has ordered me out of it." + +"Of course not. I only wonder that you should have staid so long." + +"Well, your grandfather and Priscilla's mother were kind to me when +I was an orphan and poor, and Priscilla and I were friends in youth. +Latterly I have had another reason for staying. You heard what your +aunt said, this morning, about your father." And Miss Druett blushed +a vivid carnation blush, which gave an almost unearthly lustre to her +dark eyes. + +"I heard it," said Calista, "but I thought it was, perhaps, only one of +the spiteful things she says when she gets angry." + +"It was true," said Miss Druett. "I am going to tell you a little of my +own history, Calista. It will help you to understand some things which +must have seemed strange to you." + +"I was left alone in the world at a very early age. My mother, who was +a relation of the first Mrs. Stanfield, was clandestinely married to a +British officer of high rank and small principle, at the time that New +York was occupied by the British. When the city was evacuated, she was +left alone, with a young baby, and no dependence but the old father +whose heart she had broken, and who was sinking into his grave. General +Stanfield, then recently married, found her out in her darkest hour of +trouble. She was then alone in the world, sinking in a decline, having +sacrificed everything to a man who cared for nothing but the amusement +of a passing hour. Calista, whatever you do, never make a secret +marriage." + +"I never mean to marry at all," pronounced Calista, with all the +confidence of sixteen. + +"Of course not," said Miss Druett, dryly; "girls like you never do. To +go on with my story: General Stanfield sent his cousin and her child +home to the old house here. My mother revived with the change of air +and the generous diet, and lived till I was about five and Priscilla +twelve years old. Yes, there was all that difference in our ages, yet +we were constant companions and friends. + +"It was not a happy household. Two people less fitted to live together +than General and Mrs. Stanfield were, perhaps, never united. He was +open-hearted, liberal to a fault, fond of gayety, and much given +to hospitality, both to rich and poor. She was proud and reserved, +standing much on her dignity, very strict and narrow in all her +notions, and as fond of saving as Priscilla herself. It was she who +taught Priscilla to regard economy as an end, not a means. To save +the consumption of a candle or an ounce of butter; to make a sixpence +stretch as far as a shilling; to keep the whole household on half +rations when the General went away—these were the triumphs of which she +was most proud, and for which she lived. I heard her say once that she +meant to save something for herself and Priscilla when the General was +dead. But she died long before him. + +"Priscilla mourned her sincerely; but she found consolation in walking +in her mother's steps. But her reign was not a long one. In less than +two years the General brought home another bride, not so very much +older than Priscilla herself. She was a sweet, gentle, pretty creature, +but she was not a fool by any means. She had a great deal of steady +principle, and was very religious. She would go to church every Sunday, +and read the Bible, both alone and with the servants. At first she had +both the General and Priscilla against her; but latterly the General +was won to go to church with her once on Sunday; and, though he never +made any profession of Christianity, I think his feelings toward it +were a good deal softened before he died. + +"A cousin of my poor mother's, who had a good and popular school in +Philadelphia, wrote, offering to give me an education, and General +Stanfield accepted the offer for me. I staid with her ten years; first +as pupil, then as teacher; till she died and the school was broken up. +My cousin ought to have left a good fortune; but she was unfortunate +and lost a good deal of money. The estate was divided, and all that +fell to my share was a small house, a little way out of Philadelphia, +and about a hundred dollars. Priscilla wrote for me to come to her, +and I came. At this time, Richard—your father—was a gay young man, +in college, coming home for his vacations, and turning his father +and every one else—except Priscilla—round his finger, by his winning +and coaxing ways. Even Priscilla herself was won by him while he was +present, though she hated him when he was away." + +"Why did she hate him?" asked Calista. + +"Principally because he was extravagant and your grandfather indulged +him in every whim. I cannot dwell on that part of it," said Miss +Druett, with that vivid blush again. "He never cared for me. I don't +suppose he ever imagined that I could care for him. I would have laid +down my life for him, but he did not want it. I never supposed that +even Priscilla suspected me till this afternoon. I had a long illness, +and when I rose up from it, I was a soured, hardened, elderly woman. + +"Then came the news of your father's death. Priscilla kept it to +herself for a long time; your grandfather never knew it at all." + +"Why didn't you tell him?" asked Calista. + +"Because I did not know it myself. Priscilla always made a point +of going to the office herself, and all the letters went through +her hands. The first I ever heard of the event was when one of your +mother's cousins wrote of her death. Your grandfather had been dead +about six months then; and one day, to my utter amazement, Priscilla +said to me,— + +"'Druey, I am going to bring home that girl of Richard Stanfield's. A +child like that won't cost much to keep, and when she grows up, she can +be useful in the house. I want you to go and bring her here.' + +"'Why, where are her parents?' was my natural question. + +"And then, for the first time, I learned that Richard Stanfield and his +wife were both dead. + +"You know the rest of it. Do you remember anything that happened before +you came?" + +"Sometimes I do and sometimes not," answered Calista. "I have a kind of +shadowy recollection of my mother, as a pale lady, in black, who used +to dress dolls for me, and who taught me to say 'Gentle Jesus' and 'Now +I lay me down to sleep.' I remember a sickly, lame little boy I used +to play with sometimes, and an old lady I used to call Aunt Malvina. I +recollect her perfectly. She was feeble, and I don't believe she was +rich; but I was very happy with her. I thought of her to-day, when I +saw those trunks. Oh, Miss Druett, I do think it is too bad that I +cannot have my mother's things." + +"It is a very hard case, I admit," said Miss Druett. "You had better +consult Mr. Settson about the matter." + +"But, Miss Druett, I can never stay here without you," said Calista. +"You are the only friend I have ever had." + +"And I have not always been very good to you—have I?" + +"Yes, I think you have—only you do say dreadfully sharp, hard things +sometimes. But you are not like Aunt Priscilla; and I am sure I can +never live alone with her. I should be afraid. Do you think she can be +a little insane?" + +"No; no more insane than any person is who gives herself up to the +dominion of one idea and the pursuit of one object," said Miss Druett. +"She is sharp enough about business matters." + +"She said, to-night, she had never been into grandfather's room since +his funeral," said Calista. "Do you think it can be true?" + +"I presume it is. She has an extreme dread of death, and everything +connected with it. Did you go in? I thought I heard you." + +Calista related what had taken place, and added that her aunt had given +her permission to finish her term at school. + +"I dare say she will take it back," she added. "She will want me to +stay at home and cut carpet-rags." + +"You had better say nothing on the subject, but take the permission for +granted, and go as usual," said Miss Druett. "I want you to do several +little things for me in town. But now, to finish my story: It seems +that my father, Colonel Druett, had his conscience awakened in his +latter days, and by his will left a few hundred pounds to his child and +a small annuity to his wife. His brother, who was his heir, never took +any steps to execute this part of the will; but his nephew was more +honest or less indolent. He took pains to inquire me out, a few years +ago, and actually sent me not only the five hundred pounds which was +my due, but two hundred more on account of the annuity which my mother +should have received. So that I have a reasonable provision for my old +age." + +"I wonder you should have staid on here under the circumstances," said +Calista. "Why did you?" + +"Why, for several reasons. I am attached to Priscilla, with all her +faults, and know that I am necessary to her; and I remember old +kindness at the hands of her parents; and besides all this," said Miss +Druett, with that sudden, lightning-like smile which so transformed +her face, "there was a certain wayward girl who had somehow contrived +to win her way into my heart in spite of me, and I staid to look after +her. And now I come to what I want to say particularly. I have, as I +told you, a small house in the outskirts of Philadelphia. If I can get +it into my own hands without too much sacrifice, I shall do so. Then, +will you come and live with me, Calista? No, don't answer now," as +Calista sprang up and threw her arms around her neck. "Take time to +think about it. It may involve a good deal. You know Priscilla has all +this property absolutely in her hands, and can leave it to whom she +pleases. The property has greatly increased in value with the advance +of rents, and she must leave a large fortune, supposing she does not +lose everything in some wild speculation, which is not at all unlikely." + +"Do you think so?" asked Calista, surprised. + +"She has already spent hundreds of dollars on lottery tickets," said +Miss Druett, "and would have spent more but for my influence. She +wasted nearly as much with those miserable treasure-seekers, and is +likely to do it again. I fear leaving her here alone. It is time for +you to go to bed now. I will give you some money to lay out for me in +the morning; and I should like to have you tell Mr. Settson of my plan, +and ask him what he thinks about it. There, good-night, child, and God +bless you. I have not made you as happy as I might, but at least you +know the worst of me." + + +The next morning Calista prepared for school as usual, and then went to +Miss Druett, who gave her a list of commissions and directions. + +"They will take you some time, but I dare say you won't mind. Only, if +you walk home, don't come by the river road. It is too lonely for you; +and I don't fancy having you encounter Zeke or his wife. Here, you may +buy yourself something with that," handing her a silver dollar—the very +first Calista had ever owned. + +"How nice!" exclaimed Calista. "Now I can have something of my own to +give away." + +Miss Druett smiled and sighed. + +"Richard Stanfield, all over," said she. + +"You don't mind, do you, Miss Druett?" + +"No, no, child; use it in the way that will give you most pleasure. +There, go; I hear Priscilla calling you. If she asks what we were +talking about, you can tell her." + +"Where are you going, child?" was Miss Priscilla's first question. + +"To school, aunt. You said, last night, I was to finish the term." + +"Humph! Mind, I didn't say anything about another. What did Druey want +of you?" + +"She wants me to buy her some handkerchiefs and a travelling bag and an +umbrella, and to tell the man about her trunk. David took it in when he +went to market." + +"And did she give you the money?" + +"Yes, aunt." + +Miss Priscilla groaned. "Well, there, go along, child; and tell Chloe +to bring me my breakfast. Does she mean to make me wait all day? But +nobody cares what becomes of me. I suppose I shall starve when Druey is +gone." + +"Perhaps she will stay, aunt, if you ask her," said Calista, secretly +hoping she would not; for the prospect of going to live with Miss +Druett, in the little house with the garden and orchard, had already +taken very strong hold on her imagination. + +"Mind your own business," snarled Miss Priscilla. "There, never mind, +child. Go along and send Chloe with my breakfast. And perhaps when you +come home, you will look in that room again. You might find something +else. Some people are lucky in finding things." + +"Very well, aunt. I have no objection, if you wish it," said Calista, +thinking again of the possibility of finding her grandfather's will. +"Only, I am afraid you will accuse me of stealing again, as you did +about the working-case." + +"No, no, I won't. Here, you may have the working-case, if you like; +only, don't lose it. It was your grandmother's, and perhaps she might +be pleased—there, do go and send up my breakfast." + +"Two presents from my aunt in two days—what is going to happen?" said +Calista to herself. "Oh, how much I have had to think about! It seems a +year since I went to school yesterday morning. How odd that she should +speak in that way of my grandmother's being pleased, when she does not +believe in any existence after death!" + + + +CHAPTER ELEVENTH. + +THE NEEDLE-CASE. + +WHEN Calista arrived at school, she found Mary waiting for her at the +gate. The occurrences of the afternoon had almost put those of the +morning out of her head; but the sight of Mary renewed the sore feeling +in her heart. How could she meet Mary and treat her as if nothing had +happened, after her treachery of the day before? Fortunately, she had +no time left her to debate the matter. Mary came forward to meet her, +with both hands outstretched and her face dyed with blushes. + +"Oh, Calista, won't you forgive me? I am so sorry—so ashamed. Do, +please, forgive me." + +It was not in Calista to resist such an appeal. Silently the two +friends embraced and kissed each other. + +"I went to Miss Meeks and told her just how it was," said Mary, as, +with interlacing arms, after their old fashion, they walked toward the +school-room. "And then I wanted to find you, but you were gone." + +"Yes; aunt sent for me to go home." + +"So Miss Meeks said. Calista, you were right: it was love of the +world and its praise that made me act as I did. I saw that when I +came to look myself in the face. I think there never was any one so +inconsistent as I am," concluded Mary, with a sigh. "And how I have +lectured other people! + +"Well, you are the least bit given to preaching—that cannot be denied," +said Calista, smiling. + +Mary was a little piqued, notwithstanding her late resolutions. +"Anyhow, I shall never do it again," said she. + +"Oh, yes, you will—dozens of times," returned Calista. "If you were to +see the state my desk is in, you would give me a lecture on the spot. +Come and help me to put it in order before Miss Meeks catches me." + +Somehow or other, Mary did not feel quite satisfied. She would have +liked to have her penitence made of a little more consequence. So hard +is it to put down in our hearts the love of the praise of men. She +was, however, conscious of the feeling, and, instead of allowing it a +lodgment, she resolutely turned it out and shut the door. + +"Oh, Calista! How can you ever find anything in such a chaos?" she +exclaimed, as the lid of the desk was lifted. + +Then, as Calista laughed, she put down a rising feeling of anger and +laughed too. + +"Well, there! You see it is second nature," said she. "But seriously, +Calista, if you really wish to be a teacher, you must learn to be more +orderly." + +"I know it; and really, Mary, I am improving. The fact is, I had all +the things out of my part of the desk yesterday, preparatory to a grand +'redding up,' as Miss Jessy says; but then came the summons to go home, +and I tumbled them back anyhow. Come, let us put it to rights before +school." + +"Was anything wrong yesterday?" asked Mary, as she collected a dozen +quill pens, and set herself to mend them. + +The making and mending of pens was a serious business in those days, +and took up an amount of time which no teacher at this day can realize. + +"Everything was the matter," answered Calista. "I never saw my aunt in +such a tantrum. She declared at first that I should not come to school +again, but should stay at home and cut carpet-rags. And she actually +ordered Miss Druett out of the house." + +"I wonder what she thinks she would do without her." + +"I don't know, I am sure. She all but cried last night, because she had +nobody to play cribbage with her. I tried to learn, to pacify her, but +could make nothing of it. However, she was pleased with my trying, and +said I was good-natured—the very first time I ever had a word of praise +from her—and more than that, she gave me a sixpence." + +"Not a whole one?" + +"No, it has a hole in it, and I am not sure it is good; but I mean +to try at Mammy Bates's, after school. And more than that, she gave +me a working-case—the very one that brought down Alexandre on poor +Antoinette's devoted head yesterday. See what a pretty, old-fashioned +thing it is." + +"Very pretty," said Mary, examining the little case. "If I were you, +I would have Mr. Parvin sharpen up the knife and scissors. They are +very good yet. I wonder what rattles so in the bottom. Does this little +velvet tray come out?" + +"I don't know; I have not tried. Yes, see, it does lift up, and—well +I wonder what will happen next!" said she, as she turned up the case +and shook out two English half-crowns. "That is the third sum of money +I have found in twenty-four hours. I must be a lucky person, as aunt +says. I wonder whether I had not better try my fortune on the pirates' +treasure." + +"Why, what were the others?" + +"Oh, the sixpence, in the first place. That was in the pocket of one +of the old coats I was to cut into carpet-rags. Then I was looking in +an old drawer, and I found some gold pieces of grandfather's that Aunt +Priscilla did not know of. That was a lucky find for me, for it put her +in a good humor and gained me permission to finish my term at school. +But there, Aunt Priscilla told me not to speak of it," said Calista, +vexed at herself. "How careless of me! Please, Mary, don't say anything +about it, will you?" + +"Of course not," said Mary. "But do you really think Miss Druett will +go away? How will you get on without her?" + +"I shall not try," said Calista. "She has a plan for herself and me +which she told me to talk over with your father." + +"I am afraid you will not have the chance to-day," said Mary. "Father +has gone up to Princeton, and will not be back till after commencement. +Cannot you tell me? Would it be wrong?" + +"No, I don't think so. She did not tell me not to tell," said Calista, +considering. "Of course, I would not want the affair talked over, at +least, not till it is all settled; but so long as I was to tell your +father, I don't see any harm in telling you." + +Calista then detailed her friend's plan; busying herself, meantime, in +polishing the handles of the different implements in the equipage with +a bit of chamois leather which she kept to wipe pens on. + +Mary listened with great attention to the end. Then she said, gravely: + +"Have you thought, Calista, how much this plan involves? If you leave +your aunt in that way, will she not be very much displeased?" + +"There is no telling whether she will be or not. One thing is certain, +I cannot and will not live alone with Aunt Priscilla. I don't think +your father would advise it. As to the estate, if that is what you are +thinking of, I try to give up all thought of it." + +"That is the best way, I suppose. And yet, do you think you shall like +living with Miss Druett? Is she not very odd-tempered?" + +"She is odd-tempered, but not ill-tempered, if you understand the +difference," answered Calista. "She sometimes says very sharp and +sarcastic things; but she does not delight to hurt and mortify one, +like Aunt Priscilla; and she is very just. You always know where +to find her. And she has not one way of Aunt Priscilla's which is +particularly exasperating—that of taking up some perfectly harmless +word or observation, and twisting and turning it into a great offence. +Then, I know all her ways and she knows mine. We are used to each +other, and, as old Mrs. Graves said the other day, when her husband +died,— + +"'We have lived together so long that we have got kind of wonted to +each other.'" + +"Would not you rather come to us, Calista, if it could be arranged so?" +said Mary. "You know my father spoke of it the other day." + +"Of course I should, for most reasons," answered Calista. "But then, +you see, Mary, I owe a great deal to Miss Druett. She was my only +friend for a great many years. I should never have had any education +but for her; and now that I look back at it, I can see how she stood +between me and Aunt Priscilla's stinginess and tyranny. I verily +believe I should never have been anything but a down-trodden drudge of +a servant girl but for her. She is very fond of me, in her way, too, +and she has no one else. So, if she wants me to go with her, I think I +ought to do it." + +"But don't you owe any duty to your aunt, Calista?" + +"No, Mary, I do not," said Calista, flushing. "I believe, at this +moment, my aunt is keeping me out of my inheritance, and enjoying—no, +not enjoying, but holding—what is my rightful property. She owes me a +great deal more than the bare support she has given me. But there, I +don't want to talk or think about that; it does me no good. See how +beautifully these handles polish. I believe they are gold, and not +gilded, after all." + +"I should think so, but I am no judge. I dare say Mr. Parvin can tell +you. See, I have rubbed up the velvet and morocco so that it is almost +as good as new. You ought to take great care of this case, Calista." + +"Yes, indeed; I mean to. I believe I won't take it out to the +play-ground, but leave it here in my desk, behind these books. My +pocket is worn so thin, it is not very secure. Come, let us go and see +what the girls are all about. Oh, by the way, will you go out with me +at noon recess? I have some errands for Miss Druett, and I ought to +have done one as I came along, but the shop was shut. It was about her +trunk that was sent in this morning. The rest can wait till afternoon." + +"Oh, Calista," said Mary Burns, meeting her at the school-room door, +"may I go to your desk and take out Miss McPherson's 'Deserted +Village?' She said you had it, and I want to learn a piece out of it." + +"Of course," answered Calista. "Why didn't you take it at once?" + +"I didn't want to open your desk without asking you," answered Mary +Burns. + +"What a terrible thing if you had done so!" said Calista, merrily. +"Who knows what dark and dreadful mysteries you might have discovered? +However, I will say, Mary, I wish all the girls in school were as +particular about such things as you are. It would save lots of trouble." + +"Allow me to remind you, Miss Stanfield, that 'lots of trouble' is not +a very genteel expression," said Miss Meeks, who was standing near. + +"I know it, Miss Meeks, and I stand corrected," answered Calista. "You +must allow that the sentiment was correct, though the expression was +awkward, as you say." + +Miss Meeks glanced sharply at the speaker, as if suspecting ridicule, +which she always was suspecting, poor lady. But Calista's smile and +glance disarmed her, and she said pleasantly: + +"I quite agree with you there. I hope your desk is in order, Calista. +You know I must mark you if it is not." + +"Indeed it is, Miss Meeks; I have just put it all to rights." + +"Then perhaps I had better look at it before you go back to it," said +Miss Meeks, smiling, as she turned away. + +"Just think! Miss Meeks made a joke," said Calista. "What is going to +happen? It is as great a wonder as Aunt Priscilla's making a present. +What is the matter, Mary?" + +"Nothing," answered Mary Settson, resolutely bruising the head of a +little serpent of envy and annoyance which had popped up and hissed in +her heart at hearing another praised. "How does your work get on?" + +"Nicely. I should have finished the middle last night but for taking a +lesson in cribbage from Aunt Priscilla. I think I will knit the border +in rosebuds." + +"Do you think they wash well? You know you want to do up a bureau cover +pretty often." + +"Oh, yes; just as well as any other." + +Two or three other girls now came up, and the conversation diverged +to patterns, stitches, and other similar mysteries. Then Mary Burns +brought "The Deserted Village," * and asked Calista's opinion as to +what part she should learn. + + * If, as I much fear, some of my readers have not read this exquisite +poem of Goldsmith's, I advise them to do so without delay. + +"Take the character of the pastor," said Mary Settson. + +"Begin at the beginning and go straight through," suggested Calista. +"It is all worth remembering. I am doing that by the 'Lady of the +Lake.' It is very nice to know plenty of pretty verses, especially if +one has not many books." + + +Meantime, some one else had been at Calista's desk. Antoinette Diaments +had not expected to go down to Graywich till Saturday morning, but +her uncle from Philadelphia had called for her, and Miss McPherson +had excused her in consequence. She had seen Calista with the coveted +working-case in her hand, and had seen where she put it in her desk. +Finding herself alone in the school-room, the temptation to examine +the little equipage was too strong to resist. Just as she was about +opening the desk, Mary Burns entered, and Antoinette stepped behind an +open closet door watched Mary Burns as she examined two or three books, +stopped to read a page or two in the "Lady of the Lake," and then, +closing the desk, walked away with the book she had come in search of. +Then she herself went to the desk and took out the working-case. It was +prettier than ever. + +"What hurt will it do for me just to take it down to Graywich with me? +Nobody will know who took it, and I can slip it into the desk when I +come back. It would be serving her right if I kept it altogether." + +Antoinette dropped the case into her pocket and went away, first +tumbling over Calista's papers and throwing the whole orderly desk into +confusion. It was with a malicious smile that she saw Miss Meeks come +into the room, open the desk, and frown as she observed the contents. + +"I will teach you to interfere and get me into a scrape, Miss +Stanfield," said she. "I should like to be by when your aunt asks you +what you have done with her working-case." + + +"Miss Stanfield, what did you mean by telling me that your desk was all +in order?" asked Miss Meeks, coming to Calista as soon as the school +was opened. + +Calista looked surprised, as well she might. + +"See here," continued Miss Meeks, opening the desk. "Do you presume to +call that order?" + +"Why, who in the world has been at my desk!" exclaimed Calista, too +much surprised to answer the question, or to modulate her voice to +the proper pitch required by the school-room etiquette, which Miss +McPherson and her assistants strictly enforced. + +"Miss Stanfield, are you aware how loudly you are speaking? You forget +yourself." + +"I beg your pardon, Miss Meeks," said Calista. "But I was so surprised, +I forgot myself, as you say. I assure you, I left it in perfect order, +as Mary can bear witness." + +"Indeed she did, Miss Meeks," said Mary, who had asked and obtained +permission to occupy Antoinette's vacant place. + +"Don't you believe me, Miss Meeks?" asked Calista. + +"Certainly I do, Calista," answered Miss Meeks, in a more friendly +tone. "But it is very singular. Who could have meddled with your +things?" + +"Mary Burns looked into the desk for a book she wanted," said Calista. +"Mary is apt to keep her own things rather at loose ends, but I hardly +think she would turn mine upside down in this way, especially as +the book she wanted lay directly in front, on the shelf. Don't you +remember, Mary? You put it there yourself." + +"She might have accidentally displaced the books, if she were in a +hurry," said Mary. + +Now, it was an undeniable fact that Mary Burns, with all her good +qualities—and they were many—was decidedly careless and untidy in her +habits; and being so, she was a continual cross and annoyance to Miss +Meeks. Consequently, she was no favorite with that lady, and it was +with some sharpness that she called: + +"Miss Burns!" + +Mary rose from her seat and came to Calista's desk. + +"Yes, Miss Meeks." + +"What did you do to Miss Stanfield's desk this morning?" + +"Nothing," said Mary, coloring scarlet as she met Miss Meek's severe +glance, and the surprised looks of the other girls. + +"What do you mean by saying, 'nothing'? Did you not open the desk and +take something out of it?" + +Mary was a shy girl and easily disconcerted; and she stammered from +sheer nervousness as she answered— + +"Yes, ma'am; I took out a book that Calista—that Miss McPherson—" and +here she stopped from absolute inability to articulate another word. + +"You mean that you took out the book of Miss McPherson's which she told +you to ask me for," said Calista's clear, reassuring voice. "Did you +notice then whether the desk was in order or not?" + +"It was, I know," answered Mary, recovering herself a little. + +"Allow me to manage this matter in my own way, and do not take +the words out of my mouth, Miss Stanfield," said Miss Meeks, +sharply—jealous for her own dignity, as usual. "Did you or did you not +meddle with the other contents of Miss Stanfield's desk, Miss Burns?" + +"I didn't meddle with anything; only, I took a book and read a little," +said Mary. "The book I wanted was Miss McPherson's 'Goldsmith.' Calista +had it, and I asked her if I might go to her desk and get it; you heard +me." + +"I am aware of that. What then?" + +"Then I did go and get it. It lay on the shelf. I did not touch +anything else, only the 'Lady of the Lake.' I took that up and read in +it a little and put it back. The desk was all in order then, I am sure." + +"Well, it is very odd, that is all I can say; and a great shame," said +Calista, "to go and cheat me out of a credit-mark for order, when I get +so few. I don't mean you, Mary." + +"Allow me to ask whom you do suspect, Miss Stanfield? You say that you +put the desk in order; Miss Settson says same. It is found in great +disorder, and nobody is known to have been near it but Miss Burns." + +"I don't know anything about it, Miss Meeks. But I don't believe Mary +did it. If she had, she would say so—she would not tell a lie about it." + +Now, it had unfortunately happened that Mary's extreme timidity had, +once on a time, betrayed her into evasion, if not absolute falsehood; +and this Miss Meeks remembered, as, unluckily, she always did remember +anything which told against the character of a person she disliked. + +"I wish I were as sure of that as you are, Miss Stanfield. Please look +over your desk and tell me whether you miss anything." + +Calista looked through her possessions, and turned, first red, then +pale, as she pointed out a particular compartment in the desk to Mary. + +"Well, what is it?" said Miss Meeks, sharply. "I see that something is +wrong. What do you miss?" + +"A little old-fashioned working-case my aunt gave me. It is the same +one that Antoinette wanted to borrow yesterday. Miss Priscilla gave it +to me this morning, and I brought it into town to have the knife and +scissors sharpened; and because my pocket was not very strong, I put it +away in my desk while I went out to the play-ground. I am quite sure +Mary did not touch it." + +"Did you see any one in the school-room when you were here?" asked Miss +Meeks. + +"No, ma'am—yes, ma'am," stammered Mary. "That is, I saw Antoinette +Diaments come out of the room a few minutes after I did." + +Miss Meeks's face grew rigid with displeasure. + +"Your attempt to throw suspicion on a schoolmate will hardly save you, +Miss Burns. Miss Diaments left for Graywich at eight this morning." + +"I can't help that—I know I saw her," said Mary Burns, obstinately; +her own "Scotch" getting up. "I could not be mistaken. She had on her +bonnet and her gray riding-dress." + +"At what hour did you come to school?" asked Miss Meeks, turning to +Calista. + +"I don't know exactly, Miss Meeks. It wanted a quarter to nine when I +finished putting my desk in order. I looked at the clock to see how +much time I had before school." + +"You can go to your seat, Miss Burns," said Miss Meeks, severely. "And +you will please remain there till the close of school. Miss McPherson +is unfortunately laid up with one of her severe headaches; but I shall +lay the matter before her as soon as she is able to attend to it, and +perhaps some light may be thrown upon other events which have occurred +lately." + +"Miss Meeks," said Calista, warmly, "you may suspect Mary, if you +please; but I shall never think that she either disarranged my desk or +took anything that did not belong to her—never!" + +"Miss Stanfield, you forget yourself. Go to your seat, as I tell you, +Miss Burns. This matter shall be sifted to the bottom." + +Mary obeyed with burning cheeks and a beating heart, and Miss Meeks +went on with the business of the school. At recess all the girls +gathered round Mary Settson and Calista. + +"Have you really lost your needle-case, Calista? Do you believe Mary +Burns got it?" + +"No, I don't," answered Calista, shortly. + +"But it could not go without hands, and who else could have touched +it?" argued one of the girls. + +"I don't know who did, but I know who didn't," answered Calista. "I +wish the old needle-case had been in the bottom of the creek before I +ever found it," she said to Mary, when they were alone. "It has made +nothing but trouble so far. I no more believe Mary took it than I +believe Miss Meeks did herself." + +"But, you must admit, it had an odd look, Calista," said Mary. "I mean +her stammering so, and her trying to throw the blame upon Antoinette, +who must have been ten miles away." + +"As to her stammering, she always does that," answered Calista. "As +to her seeing Antoinette, I don't know exactly what to think; but I +believe the truth will come out in time." + +"Well, I must say you take the loss of your pretty case very +philosophically—more so than I should," said Mary. + +"I am not philosophical at all, I am very much vexed," returned +Calista; "but I don't want to accuse any one falsely, and I don't see +why Mary should say she saw Antoinette when she did not. I am very +sorry Miss McPherson is sick; she would be at the bottom of the matter +in no time. There is the recess bell. Where is Tessy to-day?" + +"I don't know. Emma, where is Tessy?" + +"Oh, she is quite laid up again with her ankle. She cannot walk at all. +She thinks it is the weather, but I don't," added the little girl, +with an air of wisdom. "I think it was going down to the milliner's +after Antoinette's veil, which she forgot. And do you know, girls, the +milliner would not let Tessy have it without pay, and Tessy was just +silly enough to pay for it herself, after all." + +"Well, she is a goose. Why did she do that?" + +"Oh, she thought Antoinette would be so disappointed. Miss Jessy is +as vexed as can be, and says Tessy's ankle will never be well unless +she is more careful, and that she ought to go to a hospital, where she +would be made to keep still." + +"It would be more to the purpose to send Antoinette, I think," said +Calista. + +"It wouldn't make any difference," replied Emma. "If it was not +Antoinette, it would be some one else. Tessy's great trouble is that +she can never say 'no.'" + +"I think you are right, little one," said Calista. "If you see Tessy, +tell her I am coming up to see her after school—that is, if Miss Meeks +will let me." + +For it was a rule of the establishment that there should be no +room-visiting between day scholars and boarders without express +permission. + + +In the afternoon, as Miss Meeks had her hands full with the sole care +of the great school-room (Miss Jessy being occupied with the care of +her aunt), she sent Calista again to take charge of the little girls +and their sewing, giving her permission to choose any one she pleased +to help her. Calista chose Mary Settson, of course, and they had a +pleasant afternoon. As she observed Mary's manner with the children, +she could not but own that Miss Meeks was right, sad that Mary was +not cut out for a teacher. Mary had a way with her that was not +encouraging. She set a copy or gave instructions in knitting with a +tone and manner which seemed to say,— + +"Well, there it is, but I have not the least idea that you will do it +right. I have no doubt you will blot the writing and pucker the seam, +and drop half the stitches at least." + +Calista, on the contrary, was always certain things would be done +well, or, if they did not succeed the first time, that they would +infallibly do so with a little more practice. The children felt the +difference, and so did Mary herself, and it cost her a hard fight with +her besetting enemy. But those who were for her were more than those +who were against her, and she was able to say to Miss Meeks honestly, +and without a quaver in her voice— + +"Calista manages beautifully, Miss Meeks. I think she would make an +excellent teacher in our Sunday-school, if we get one up." + +"I dare say," replied Miss Meeks. "Well, Miss Stanfield and Miss +Settson, I am much obliged to you." + +"Please, Miss Meeks, may I go up and see Tessy?" asked Calista. + +"You may go, but do not stay long. I think she is a little disposed to +be feverish." + +"Will you go, Mary?" + +"I think not. I have a bit of work to finish. I will be ready to go out +with you when you come down." + +Calista found Tessy bolstered up on her little bed, with her French +dictionary and a volume of fairy tales which belonged to Miss Jessy, +and was only lent as a special favor. She looked pale and suffering, +but welcomed her visitor cheerfully. + +"And what is going on down stairs?" asked Tessy, presently. "I thought +I heard one of the girls say something about Mary Burns being in +trouble. The old story of mislaying her things, I suppose?" + +"Well, yes, partly; it all grows out of that," answered Calista, +determined not to be the first to tell of what she believed to be Mary +Burns's undeserved disgrace. "I don't think it would have come to much +if Miss McPherson had been about; but you know people make mountains +out of mole-hills sometimes." + +"Yes, and the mountain sometimes brings forth a ridiculous mouse." + +"I suspect the mouse in this case will be ridiculous enough," said +Calista. "But, Tessy, what made your ankle so much worse all at once? I +thought it was almost well." + +"It was a great deal better," answered Tessy, blushing. "I suppose I +walked too much and too fast." + +"That is to say, you half killed yourself, as usual, running to wait on +Antoinette," said Calista. + +"Well, yes, I suppose that was it. You see she forgot her veil and I +had to go after it." + +"Why did you have to? Why could not she call for it as she went along?" + +"I don't know. I suppose she did not think of it." + +"Well, I know," said Calista, "or at least I guess. Tell me now, +honestly, did you not pay for it?" + +Tessy blushed scarlet, and cast an imploring glance at Calista. + +"Please don't tell, Calista; it will only get her into a scrape." + +"I shall not tell, because it would get you into a scrape, you little +goose. But I will tell you this, Tessy: if you ever want to be good for +anything in this world—or any other, I might say—you must learn to say +'No,' and say it good and strong; in capital letters, with a string of +exclamation points after it." + +"I think I could always say no if it was about anything right or +wrong," said Tessy, thoughtfully. + +"Are you sure? Was there nothing wrong about this?" + +"Why, no. Was there?" + +"Yes, I think so. In the first place, you had no right to injure your +ankle, especially as Dr. Elsmore told you that a little imprudence +might lame you for life. In the second place, you know that Miss +McPherson has forbidden Antoinette to borrow anything whatever, don't +you?" + +"Yes." + +"And if it is wrong for her to borrow, it is clearly wrong for any one +to lend to her." + +"But it wasn't lending, exactly. Antoinette did not ask me to pay for +the veil, though, to be sure, she must have known I could not get it +without paying, because Mrs. McPherson has forbidden any one to trust +the school-girls. Yes, I see, Calista, you are right, and I am a poor, +weak, silly fool, and always shall be." + +"Now you are going just as far the other way," said Calista. "I never +said a word about your being a silly fool. All I say is that you must +learn to say 'NO!' and say it good and strong." + +"It seems so ill-natured," pleaded poor Tessy. + +"Pray, whose good opinion do you care the most for, Antoinette's or +Miss McPherson's? But there, I did not come to give you a dose of +instructive moral sentiments. How does your work get on?" + +"Oh, nicely; it is almost done, and Miss Jessy praises it up to the +skies. Don't you want to see it? It is in that drawer, if you don't +mind getting it out." + +"How nice your drawers look!" said Calista. + +"Yes, I am really learning to keep things straight, thanks to Miss +Jessy. That is it. Spread it out." + +Calista admired to Tessy's heart's content the lace-like netted +curtains, with what we should now call a guipure pattern around the +edge. + +"They are perfectly lovely. Do you think they will sell?" + +"Oh, yes; they are bespoken already by a friend of Miss McPherson's +from Philadelphia—that Scotch lady who was here the first of the week." + +"How glad I am! Mine is done, too, all but the border. I mean to knit a +double row of rosebuds. There, I must not stay another minute, or Miss +Meeks will be after me. Oh, by the by, Tessy, what time did Antoinette +go away this morning?" + +"Do you mean the first time or the last?" + +"Why, did she go away twice?" asked Calista. + +"Yes. She set out at eight o'clock, but something happened to the +horse's foot, and uncle had to go to the blacksmith's; so Antoinette +came back and waited till he was ready. She left the room here just as +the quarter to nine bell was ringing, but she did not go away directly, +I know. I heard her go into the school-room; I always know the peculiar +squeak of her boots. Why?" + +"Only that one of the girls thought she saw her in the school-room +after the first bell rung, and Miss Meeks said it must be a mistake, +because Antoinette went away at eight," said Calista, rejoicing in the +power Tessy had given her of so far clearing Mary. "Good-bye, dear; I +shall bring you some flowers Monday. I know where I can find some late +laurel, and perhaps a moccasin-flower or two." + +"Oh, thank you! I do love laurel, and I have not been able to get out +to gather any this year." + +Calista went straight to Miss Meeks's room, but she had gone out. Miss +Jessy was sitting with Miss McPherson, who had just fallen asleep, and +must not be disturbed on any account. + +"I don't see but I must let the thing rest till Monday," said Calista +to Mary, after she had told her Tessy's story. + +"You might call and see Mary Burns herself," suggested Mary Settson. +"But perhaps it would be as well to leave the whole matter till Monday, +as you say. Mary needs a lesson." + +"She may need a lesson, but I don't care to be the one to give it to +her," answered Calista, with some warmth; "and I don't think I should +thank any one for giving such a lesson to me. Would you?" + +"Perhaps not," answered Mary; "and yet it might very good to me, for +all that." + +"Well, I don't feel any special mission for doing people good by +keeping them in uncomfortable suspense when there is no need for it," +returned Calista. "I would rather do as I would be done by. Come, let +us stop and see Mary." + +They were disappointed again. Mary had gone to her aunt's directly +after school, and would probably stay all night, as her aunt was more +than usually unwell. + +"I can't go all the way up to Mrs. Rolfe's, that is certain," said +Calista; "and I don't like to leave a message either. Well, let it go. +Perhaps you will see her or Miss Meeks to-morrow. If you do, please +tell them what Tessy says. Come, I must do Miss Druett's errands." + +The errands were accomplished, and then Calista did one for herself. +With a part of her dollar she bought a pound of sperm-candles—an +article much cheaper and better than the parafine-candles which have +taken their place. + +"What on earth did you do that for?" asked Mary, as they turned into +the street. + +Calista laughed, and then became suddenly grave as she said—"I suppose +you cannot realize what it is never to be allowed a light when you go +to bed, except perhaps a mite of tallow-candle in winter." + +"You don't mean to say you never have a light in your own room!" + +"Neither light nor fire, except as I told you, in the dead of winter." + +"But Miss Druett—" + +"Miss Druett helps me all she can; but Aunt Priscilla keeps the keys. +Now and then Chloe makes candles, and then she contrives to save one +out for me. Good-bye, Mary. Do say a kind word to Mary Burns, if you +get a chance. I am just as sure of her innocence as I am of yours or my +own." + + +Calista had just reached the place where the river road turned off, +when the rattle of wheels made her look round, and she saw Cassius +driving up in his neat, serviceable little Jersey wagon. He stopped as +he saw Calista. + +"Evening, Missy," said he, taking off his hat as usual; "I heard you +was on the road, and so I drove fast to catch up with you. Won't Missy +have a ride?" + +Calista gladly accepted the offer, and Cassius drove on leisurely, +entertaining his companion with various little bits of news. + +"Did Missy hear that we are to have preaching at the old meeting-house +every Sunday evening now?" + +"No," said Calista, very much interested. "I think that will be very +nice. Who is to preach?" + +"I disremember his name, though I have seen him often when we was both +young," answered Cassius. "He is quite an old gentleman now, and has +come to end his days with his niece over here at the Mills. So when he +heard there was no preaching anywhere rounds here, he said he would see +what he could do, and he got leave to use the old meeting-house. I am +going round to-morrow to tell all the neighbors. Won't you try to come, +Missy? You know what that pretty hymn says— + + "'Tis easier work, if we begin + To serve the Lord betimes.'" + +"I will certainly try to come," said Calista. "It is very good in you +to take so much pains about the matter." + +"It ain't much I can do to serve the Lord these times; but I think it a +great privilege to be allowed to do the leastest thing for one who has +done so much for me," said the old man. "And, bless the Lord, he don't +look at how much we do, but how we do it. When that poor woman in the +Scripture put in her two mites into the treasury, the good Lord said +she had put in more than they all." + +"You love him, don't you, Cassius?" + +"Yes, bless his name, Missy, I do." + +"Well, I wish I did." + +"So do I, Missy, for I am sure he loves you. Why don't you?" + +"Well, I hardly know, Cassius. I suppose I don't think enough about it. +I have not had much chance, you know." + +"Ah, Missy, don't say that. You have been to church and heard the +minister preach and read about him, and you've heard the Bible read in +school. I'm afraid it is as you say, and you don't think enough about +it." + +"Perhaps so." + +"You will think, won't you, Missy?" + +"Yes, Cassius, I will," answered Calista, frankly. "And I will go to +the meeting if aunt will let me. Thank you ever so much for bringing me +home. Good-night." + +Calista peeped into the sitting-room. She had come to look on the +Philadelphia scheme as quite settled and certain, and she felt a sudden +sinking at her heart as she saw Miss Druett and Aunt Priscilla sitting +together just as usual. Miss Stanfield was the first to speak. + +"Whose wagon was that I heard? Have you taken to hiring carriages to +bring you home?" + +"Not quite, yet," answered Calista. "Cassius overtook me, and brought +me home in his wagon." + +"Well, that is well enough. If you were a little sharper, you might +often get a ride and save your shoes. But catch you saving anything!" + +"Let the child alone, Priscilla," said Miss Druett. "Calista, did you +get the things as I told you?" + +"Yes, ma'am, they are all here. Shall I leave them in your room?" + +"If you please. I am just going up." + +"So you have made it up with Aunt Priscilla," said Calista, as they +were going up stairs together. + +Miss Druett nodded. + +"She came to my room, begged my pardon for what she had said, and asked +me to stay, and I have said I would for the present." + +"And so all our fine plan falls to the ground," said Calista, sadly. + +"For the present, as I said; but it may yet come to pass. Meantime, +here is something to console you." + +She put a bunch of keys into Calista's hand as she spoke. + +Calista looked at them in wonder. + +"What are these?" she asked. + +"Keys," said Miss Druett, smiling. "Look into your room, and perhaps +you will find something they will fit." + +With a beating heart Calista, opened the door. There in a row at the +side stood the three brown leather trunks, marked on the end "Calista +Folsom." + + + +CHAPTER TWELFTH. + +THE TRUNKS. + +"I KNOW it was your doing, Miss Druett. How did you manage it?" + +"Why, I thought the present was a good time for some diplomacy, so +I made the restoration of the trunks, and several other things, +conditions of my remaining. You are my girl now, Calista, and must mind +me. I mean to be very harsh and tyrannical, so you must make up your +mind to it. I shall take out all my injuries of every sort on you." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that I made it one condition of my staying another day, +that you were to be delivered over to my care altogether, Priscilla +furnishing your board as long as you stay here, and I being at all +the other expenses of your maintenance and education. So mind you +don't tear your dresses and spoil your shoes running after flowers and +squirrels, or I don't know what will happen." + +"It is too much, Miss Druett; more than you ought to do." + +"No, I can afford it well enough; as things are, I have not much use +for money." + +"But you might live so much more pleasantly somewhere else." + +"More pleasantly, perhaps, but pleasure is not all, my little girl. +Here is my place, and here I must remain for the present. General +Stanfield was my mother's friend and helper in her sorest hour of need, +and I will stay and watch over his daughter as long as I can do her any +good." + +"I believe you are the only person who has any influence with her," +remarked Calista. + +"I think so too, and I don't know how long that influence will last; +but while it does, I am bound to use it." + +"But about the trunks?" said Calista. + +"Well, they are another condition. Of course, I cannot say in what +state you may find their contents, but they have never been touched +since they were piled up in that room." + +"I wonder Aunt Priscilla has not ransacked them long ago." + +"She never had the chance," replied Miss Druett. "I mislaid the keys, +and did not find them for a long time, and when I did, I thought it +just as well not to mention the fact. But now, Calista, I have one +or two conditions to impose as you, if this bargain of ours is to +stand. The first is, that you shall not go out, visit, or make any new +acquaintances, without consulting me." + +"I am sure I agree to that," said Calista; "I am only too thankful to +have some one who really cares what I do." + +"The second is, that you shall never speak disrespectfully to, or of, +Priscilla; it is not good for you or her." + +"I agree to that, too," said Calista. "I never speak of her at all, +if I can help it; never to any one but Mr. Settson or Mary, who +know all about her. I never fancied making family matters common +property—'setting all your broken dishes out on the fence,' as Chloe +says." + +"That is the true ladylike spirit," said Miss Druett. "You must come to +me whenever you want money, clothes, or books, and you must let me be +the judge as to your need of them. When I have time to look over and +calculate my resources, I shall try to make you a regular allowance +of pocket-money, though it will have to be very small. Take care of +your keys; keep the trunks always locked, and the keys in your pocket +or under your pillow. Now get yourself ready for supper, and mind you +don't say anything to exasperate Priscilla." + +Calista obeyed. It required some firmness on her part to resist the +temptation at once to open the trunks, which she could hardly believe +to be really within her reach. She made herself as neat as she could, +taking particular pains with her hair, which Miss Druett said was like +her father's. As she entered the sitting-room, Miss Druett sighed, and +even Miss Priscilla seemed struck with her appearance. + +"Just like her father," said she, half to herself; "just like him, mind +and body; and would make the money fly just so, if she could get it; +but that won't be in my time. No, no." + +Calista thought of her promise just in time to suppress a sharp retort. +She took her place at the table, which was rather better furnished than +ordinary, and helped herself to bread and butter without receiving +the usual rebuke. Indeed, Miss Priscilla seemed rather anxious to +conciliate her niece, and actually asked her two or three civil +questions. + +"Well, really, she got through a meal without snapping at me once," +said Calista to herself; "but I suppose it is too good to last." + +"Where is the working-case I gave you this morning?" asked Aunt +Priscilla, as Calista rose to leave the room after supper. "I want to +see it." + +"I took it to town to have the knife and scissors put in order so that +I could use them, and I did not bring it home," answered Calista, +telling the truth, but not quite the whole truth. + +"Humph! However, it doesn't matter to me; only I should like to know +how you expected to pay for it." + +"Why, aunt, you know you gave me a whole sixpence," answered Calista. + +"More fool I!" answered Miss Priscilla, gruffly. + +"And Miss Druett also gave me a little money—so I was quite rich." + +"More fool she!" again ejaculated Miss Priscilla. "However, it is no +concern of mine." + +Miss Priscilla composed herself for her usual nap. + +And Calista, dismissed by a glance from Miss Druett, stole away to +examine her treasures. + + +The keys and locks were alike rusty, but a little grease from her +treasured bit of tallow-candle soon removed that trouble; and it was +with a feeling of awful delight that Calista opened the long-shut lids, +and inhaled the odor of the spices, camphor, and tobacco, with which +Mrs. Tom Folsom and Miss Malvina had embalmed their contents so long +ago. It almost seemed to her as if she were about to have an interview +with her mother. + +The first trunk she opened contained only linen—real linen, and of +good quality—for, at the time poor Calista Folsom's wedding outfit was +provided, cotton was very little worn, except in the shape of chintz. +Calista found her own baby-clothes, pinned up in a separate bundle, and +shed some tears over the dainty sewing, the beautiful satin stitch, +and lace-like cut work with which they were adorned. The next trunk +contained dresses and other things of that nature, and Calista opened +her eyes wide at the three or four rich silks, the soft gray Canton +crape, and the beautiful, unapproachable India camel's hair cloth—such +as I remember seeing upon old ladies when I was young. Then there were +two er three white dresses, worked in deep patterns, with floss and +amazing lace stitches; a large white Canton crape shawl, and another +which Calista was sure was an Indian cashmere, of a soft, dusky, almost +smoky, red—such as no Western dyer ever attained or ever will—with wide +borders at the ends and narrow ones at the sides. + +"I wonder whether I shall ever wear any of these things?" said Calista +to herself, as she carefully restored them to their neat folds and +wrappings. "But, oh, how I wish I could find something which tells more +about herself!—some letters or journals. Perhaps they are in the other +trunks." + +So it proved. The contents of the last trunk were more valuable than +any of the others. It contained a gold watch and chain much like that +one which Calista had discovered is her grandfather's desk; a box +containing an expensive set of ornaments and some beautiful lace—poor +Richard's wedding present to his bride; a number of books, among them a +Bible and Psalm-book, bound alike and marked with her mother's name. In +the inside of the Bible was written, in a legible but unsteady hand: + +"I leave this Book—which was given me by my own dear mother, on her +death-bed—to my precious and only child, Calista Stanfield. May it be a +lamp to her feet and a light to her path, which shall grow brighter and +brighter unto the perfect day!" + +On another leaf, and evidently by the same hand, was inscribed Richard +Crashaw's inscription in a prayer-book: + + "It is an armory of light; + Let constant use but keep it bright, + You'll find it yields, + To holy hands and humble hearts, + More swords and shields + Than sin hath snares, or hell hath darts. + Only be sure + The hands be pure + That hold these weapons; and the eyes, + Those of turtles, chaste and true, + Wakeful and wise." + +The trunk also contained a work-box and writing-desk each covered with +red morocco, and having the key tied to the handle. Calista was just +going to lift out the writing-desk, when some one knocked and opened +the door. It was Miss Druett. + +"Just as I expected," said she. "Do you know what time it is?" + +"No, ma'am. Is it late?" + +"Only half-past ten—which is rather late for you. Put up your things +and lock the boxes for to-night, or you will have Priscilla in here. +Where did you get your candle?" + +"I bought it with some of the money you gave me. Was that wrong? It +does seem so hard not to have a light for anything." + +"Not wrong at all. I should have thought of it; but somehow it is only +within a few weeks that I have found out you are not a baby. Here, let +me help you. In what condition did you find the things?" + +"They seem to be all right. I don't think the boldest moth would have +ventured into the trunks, they are so filled with tobacco and camphor. +I believe I will keep out mother's Bible and Psalm-book. I know she +would want me to use them." + +"Very well. And, Calista, that reminds me of another thing I wanted to +say. Don't read a book in this house—I mean, not a book you find in the +house—without asking me. I don't want your young blood poisoned as mine +was." + +"You don't mean that I shall not read mother's books!" said Calista, a +little dismayed. + +"Oh, no! I am not afraid of any books your mother was likely to have. +There, good-night! And don't burn the house down." + +Calista fastened her door and then sat down to look over her treasures. +The Bible had evidently been long and carefully used, and was marked +from end to end with pencil marks, notes, and references. As Calista +turned over the leaves, it seemed to her as if her mother was talking +with her, so many of the passages seemed marked with special reference +to herself. But the most precious of all was to come. Pinned to the +last leaf of the book was a letter in her mother's handwriting, +addressed— + + "To my dear and precious daughter, Calista Stanfield. To be given her +as soon as she shall be able to read and understand it." + +Calista carefully unpinned the letter and looked at it before she broke +the seal, and a feeling of anger rose in her heart at the thought that +so precious a legacy should have been kept from her hands so long. But +this emotion passed away as she read the letter—just such a letter as +a loving, tender, Christian mother might be expected to write to a +daughter under such circumstances. It began with a slight sketch of the +writer's own life, and from it Calista first learned that her maternal +grandfather had been a somewhat noted New England minister. + +"I wonder whether I have any relations living," thought Calista. "I +must try to find out some time." + +The letter proceeded to give some judicious counsel as to the guidance +of her future life. + + "I cannot but feel that I have been hardly treated by your father's +family," the writer went on to say. "Certainly, I never intended to +injure them in any way. Nevertheless, for your father's sake, should +you be brought in contact with your grandfather or aunt, I beg you will +try to make friends with them." + +The writer concluded with a most earnest appeal to Calista at once to +give her whole heart to her heavenly Father, to put herself body and +soul in his hands, and strive to follow the steps of her Saviour into +all holiness and godly living, that she might not fail to meet her +friends at the right hand of God in the great day of account. + +Calista shed many tears over this letter, as was only natural. + +"Oh, I will—I will!" she said to herself. "I will try to be a +Christian, like my dear mother. I will resolve this minute to serve +God, and to put myself into his hands." + +So she did, poor lonely child, and that in all sincerity; but she was +to find out that the gate was straiter and the way narrower than she +had any idea of. The "lion in the way" does not usually lie on the +threshold, but just a little way inside. + +Calista went to bed thinking that she should not sleep at all; but +youth and health do not often lie awake long. She was asleep almost +before her head touched the pillow, and did not awake till the robin +which lived in the great tree opposite her window began his usual +musical morning call. + +"It can't be more than four o'clock," said she to herself. "You stupid +robin, what did you wake me so early for? Can't you get up yourself +without making such a fuss about it? I suppose I had better go to bed +again." + +She lay down, accordingly, and tried to go to sleep for full ten +minutes. Then she decided that there was no use is trying any longer, +and she might as well get up and finish looking over the things. She +was soon dressed and seated on the ground before her treasures. She +opened the work-box first: it contained the usual working implements, +and one thing not often seen in these days—a thread-case, stitched into +long, numbered compartments, into each of which was drawn a skein of +thread or silk, cut at one end. + +Calista opened a velvet case with some trouble, and found, as she +expected, a miniature picture of her father. Fastened into the lid of +the case was a sketch, in water colors, of a sweet, fair, somewhat prim +and precise-looking female face, evidently done by no professional +hand. It afforded a great contrast, in its thin tints and stiff +outlines, to the beautifully painted picture on the other side; but +there about it that nameless something which showed it was a likeness. +The clear, well-opened, but somewhat hollow blue eyes, with their +level, even brows, looked at Calista with love; and the firm, but not +stern, mouth seemed as if it might speak. A shadowy remembrance came +over Calista of her mother sitting before a glass and painting, while +she herself sat on the floor and scribbled with a lead pencil. She +kissed the picture again and again. + +"She painted it for me—I am sure she painted it for me. My precious +mother!" + +But the writing-desk was the most interesting and important of all. +It was of pretty good size, and was packed full of papers arranged +in neat order. There were letters, which had evidently been received +from young friends, full of news and gossip about companions and work +and books, and also with more serious matters—news of a schoolmate's +conversion, requests for prayers, and the like. There were letters +from her father, written after he left her mother to go to the wars; +manly and tender, and thoroughly devout and Christian in their tone. +The last one expressed great regret at the writer's estrangement +from his father. + + "I have written to him, and I hope you will do the same. I am sure if +he were only to see you, all would be right between you." + +This letter was endorsed,— + + "The last letter I ever had from my dearest husband. God's will be +done!" + +Wrapped up with this letter was a very different one. On the cover was +written, in her mother's hand: + + "I have been, two or three times, on the point of destroying this +letter; but have refrained, thinking it might, at some time, be of use. +I wish to record my firm belief that General Stanfield never saw it or +ordered it written." + +Calista opened the letter. It was in Miss Priscilla's clear, cramped +hand, and read as follows: + + "Mrs. Richard Stanfield's letter is received. Mrs. Richard Stanfield +is hereby informed that General Stanfield wishes to hold no communication +with her or her husband on any subject whatever; and that no letters +from either of them will meet with any attention. + + (Signed) "PRISCILLA STANFIELD, + + "For Richard Stanfield." + +At the end was written: + + "Nevertheless, I wrote to my husband's father and to his sister at the +time when my child was born, but I never received the slightest answer." + +Calista sat with burning cheeks, holding this letter in her hands. +Her lips were compressed, and her eyes full of trouble. She was not +thinking of the loss of property, not at all of herself in connection +with it, but of the cruel injury done to her mother. + +"Then she did know. She knew all the time. But Mr. Settson said +grandfather did not know of my existence, and it would certainly seem +so from what Miss Betsy said. She must have contrived some way to keep +the letters from grandfather altogether. Oh, how could she—how could +she be so cruel! And there was my poor mother working herself to death +to support herself and me. I never can forgive her—never. If it had +been myself—but my mother—to write so to my mother! If I cannot be a +Christian without forgiving Aunt Priscilla, I shall never be one. But +there is the bell. I must go down. Oh, how I did want these things, and +now I almost wish I had never seen them." + + "Forever by the goal are set + Pale disappointment and regret." + + +As soon as breakfast was over and she could get away, she renewed +her examinations. The trunk contained much that was of interest to +her—books of various sorts, chiefly religious and poetical; scraps +carefully preserved from newspapers; an old-fashioned water-color box, +well furnished with colors, brushes, &c.; a white frock, began but not +finished; and divers other matters of no interest to the reader. When +she had gone through them all once, she locked up the trunks and went +to Miss Druett's room, where she was pretty sure to find her alone at +this time, when Miss Priscilla, always methodical, was engaged in her +daily scolding match with Chloe. + +"See here, Miss Druett, what shall I do with these?" said she, showing +her the watch and ornaments she had found. + +Miss Druett looked at them with great interest. + +"I suppose your father gave your mother these things," said she. "You +must not keep them here. If Priscilla gets wind of them, she will leave +no stone unturned to get them into her hands." + +"She will never get them into her hands," said Calista. + +"She will try, though. You might give them to Mr. Settson, only he is +not at home. I believe the better way will be to leave them with Mr. +Fabian, at the bank. I could make an errand for you there, and give you +a note to Mr. Fabian. And yet you ought not to walk into town carrying +such a treasure, either. Let me think a little. Here, quick, child, let +me put them in my desk. I hear Priscilla coming." + +Miss Priscilla came in, evidently in a great fume. + +"Druey, I want you to go to town," was her salutation. + +"What now?" asked Miss Druett, with her usual coolness. + +"That man Anderson was to have been here day before yesterday, to pay +his interest, and he hasn't come. I want you to go and see about it." + +"I can't possibly go to-day. What does it signify? I dare say he will +be here to-morrow. He is always pretty punctual." + +"But I want the money." + +"Nonsense; you are not suffering for it." + +"But I want it," said Miss Priscilla, fretfully; "and you don't know +whether I am suffering or not." + +"I know I am," said Miss Druett. "I had earache all night, and if I +should ride to town in this wind, I should have it for a month." + +"You can wrap your head up," pleaded Miss Priscilla. "Come, Druey, do; +just to oblige me." + +"I would if I could, Priscilla. I want to go myself, but I am not able. +Why not let the child go?" + +"The child, indeed! What good can she do?" + +"She can carry a note as well as I, and do my errand at the same time. +Let her take the pony. You don't mind, do you, Calista?" + +"No, I should like it," said Calista. + +Miss Priscilla grumbled and complained, but finally decided that +Calista might do the errand, if she would be careful and not drive the +pony too fast. + +"I should like to see myself doing it," said Calista, laughing in spite +of her trouble. "Never fear, aunt; Jeff and I are old friends. I will +run and tell David to get up the chaise." + +"He knows about it already," said Miss Priscilla. "I counted on Druey's +going, but she thinks so much of her precious ears." + +"They are all I have, you see, and I might not find another pair to fit +me," said Miss Druett. "Never mind, Priscilla, the child will do the +errand just as well. Come to me when you are ready." + +Calista dressed herself as neatly as she could, and it was with a +mingled feeling of pain and pleasure that she hung over her arm a long, +soft, gray cloth cloak, which she had found among her mother's things. +Miss Druett noticed it as soon as she entered the room. + +"That is a very nice, pretty cloak; was it in the trunk?" + +"Yes, ma'am. The air is so damp and chilly that I knew I should need +something, and my old shawl is all in holes. I thought perhaps mother +would like to have me use it." + +"No doubt she would like to have you use all the things. Be careful of +them, that is all. And, by the way, stop at Mrs. Dare's and see when +she can fit your frocks." + +"Oh, she cannot do them at all," said Calista; "she has broken her arm, +and her niece has all she can do with the girls' examination dresses. +But I heard Cassius say that his step-daughter, Drusella Pine, was +coming here directly to set up dressmaking. I know Miss Alice had her +last summer, and was very much pleased with her. I might find out when +she is expected." + +"True, and with the horse you will not be afraid to come round that +way. If I were a little richer, you should have a pretty white frock. +However, we will talk of that another time. Here are your trinkets and +a note to Mr. Fabian. Take care you don't lay the bag out of your hand, +and go straight to the bank the first thing." + +"May I go up to the school and ask for Miss McPherson? She had one of +her bad headaches yesterday." + +"Yes, but don't stay. I shall feel rather anxious till you are safe at +home." + +"Why to-day more than any day?" + +"Because I am an old fool, child." + +"How foolish I have been!" she said to herself. "I believe I have been +of some use to the child as it was, but what comfort we might have been +to each other if I had not been so determined to nurse my anger and +grief all my life! Even now, at my age, I can hardly help being jealous +of the dead mother's cloak. Truly, the sorrow of the world worketh +death." + +Miss Druett did not often quote Scripture, but she had done so once or +twice lately. After Calista had gone, she went into her room to see +that everything was safely secured. Her eyes fell upon Calista Folsom's +Bible, and taking it in her hand, she sat down and read a long time. + + +"What have you been about all the morning, Druey?" said Miss Priscilla, +as they sat down to their twelve o'clock dinner. They were alone, for +Calista had not yet returned. + +"You would never believe it if I were to tell you, Priscilla," was the +answer. "I have been reading the Bible." + +"What ails everybody?" was Miss Priscilla's comment. "Here Chloe tells +me that old Mr. Alger is going to preach in the old meeting-house every +Sunday evening. There must be something in the air. We shall have you +turning Methodist and leading a class yet." + +"I might do worse," said Miss Druett. + +I incline to think Miss Priscilla was right, and that there was +something stirring in the air about the Stanfield neighborhood, a-going +in the tops of the trees, as it were, which might be a sign that a +gracious rain was about to fall on that hitherto dry and barren ground. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. + +THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE. + +CALISTA had truly said that she and Jeff understood each other. To +oblige her, he even condescended to trot. Just as she reached the town, +she met the delinquent Joseph Anderson, and stopped to talk with him. + +"Good-morning, Friend Anderson. I was just coming to bring you a note +from my aunt." + +"I was on my way to see her," was the reply. "I suppose she is in a +fret about her interest, as usual. I have had it by me these ten days, +but my poor sister Rolfe was so ill, I did not like to be out of the +way." + +"I heard yesterday she was not as well." + +"She is not long for this world, though she is more comfortable this +morning," said the old man, shaking his head. "Well, it will be a +glorious exchange for her, that is one comfort." + +"A great one, I am sure," said Calista. + +"Yes, yes, thee is right; but then thee knows the heart will cling to +those it loves. Well, I must go on my errand and get back. Thee had +better give me the note, perhaps." + +Calista did so, and drove on to the bank, where she found Mr. Fabian, +an elderly white-haired man, of precise, polite manners, who shook her +by the hand, and complimented her on her growing resemblance to her +father. + +Calista presented her note, which Mr. Fabian read with interest. + +"Quite right, quite right, and very sensible on your part, my dear +young lady. Yes, I will take care of the things, and have them put into +the vault. I knew your father and grandfather well. Pray, call upon me +without hesitation if I can be of any service to you." + +As Calista was waiting a moment for Mr. Fabian to write a receipt and a +note for Miss Druett, she heard an old gentleman, who had been sitting +in the back office, say to him— + +"Is not that old Richard Stanfield's granddaughter?" + +"Granddaughter and heir, if every one had their rights," answered Mr. +Fabian in the same tone. "But the second will, if indeed he ever made +one, will never be found." + +"It may turn up yet." + +"Possibly; and then the girl would be a great heir, for the property +has increased tenfold in value. I fear the will will never be found. I +suspect some one took care of that." + +At another time this conversation would have set Calista off into one +of the day dreams in which she had so much delighted; but now her head +and heart were full of something else. + +She asked at the school for Miss McPherson, and heard that she was +better, and had gone out driving with Miss Meeks and Tessy; for Miss +McPherson kept a handsome, roomy carriage, and drove out with some of +her young ladies almost every day. It was not till she was on her way +home, and had turned into the river road, that Calista remembered Mary +Burns and the missing working-case. + +In fact, Calista's mind and head were full of a new and strange +trouble. A fierce contention was going on for that small empire—so +small, so great—a human soul. + +The night before she had fully determined to follow her mother's +counsel—to give herself heart and soul to him who had given himself +for her. But since then, she had read Miss Priscilla's letter, and her +mother's remarks upon it, and hence arose her trouble. This it was +which had waked up the lions which disputed her passage, and if the +lions were chained, she saw not the chains. She knew that to follow +the footsteps of her Lord she must forgive not only her own enemy—she +thought that would be almost easy—but her mother's. + +"Forgive if ye would be forgiven," rung in her ears, and she felt the +words were true. + +"If it had been only myself,—" she said over and over again—"but my +mother, my dear precious mother, who never did harm to any one in all +her days—no, no! I never can! Oh, why did she keep that letter! She +might have known! Oh, what shall I do!—What shall I do!" + +In her trouble of mind, she had nearly passed Cassius's modest little +house, but was recalled by a cheerful greeting from the old man, who +was cutting some wood outside the gate. + +"Morning, Missy! Don't you mean to stop and give us a call?" + +"Yes, of course," answered Calista, recalled from her abstraction, and +pulling up Jeff, nothing loth, at the gate. "I will come in if you will +fasten the pony." + +Cassius tied the pony, and brought him an armful of fragrant new hay +from the next field, with which the attention of that ancient sage was +soon wholly engrossed. + +Meantime, Calista had alighted, and was receiving a hearty welcome from +Aunt Sally, who conducted her to the house and seated her in the best +chintz-covered rocking-chair, bringing her a fan, and sending a little +girl to the well for cool water. + +"Who is that little thing?" asked Calista, as the child disappeared. +"Your grandchild?" + +"Lord bless you, honey, no. My grandchillen's no such peaked, puny +little things as that, thanks to Massy. No, that's poor Maria Jackson's +child, that works to Mrs. Dare's, the dressmaker. You see, Mrs. Dare +she can't very well have the child round—she can't, really—and Maria +boarded the little thing out, down to Gouldtown. But the woman that had +her didn't do her justice—made her work far too hard, though Maria paid +her regular. Besides, she didn't give her half enough to eat. One day I +met Maria in the street, and says she,— + +"'Just look at this child, will you!' + +"And says I, 'For Massy, Maria, what ails her?' + +"So she up and told me, and Sister Wilson, that was with her, said it +was all so. + +"And says I, 'Maria, you just let me have her a few weeks, and you +won't know her. Don't you never send her back to that woman,' says I. + +"'But I don't know as I can afford to pay what it is worth,' says she. + +"'Never mind,' says I; 'you pay what you can, or don't pay anything. +Just let me have her a few weeks, and see what I can do with her. And +Cassius says the same.' + +"So we brought her home, and she's picked up wonderful in a week." + +"But I thought the Gouldtowners were pretty nice people," said Calista, +as she fanned herself and admired the cool, cheerful aspect of the room. + +"So they are—so they are; but Missy knows there's a black sheep in +every flock!" + +"They's all middling black sheep up to Gouldtown!" said old Cassius, +who had entered in time to hear the last remark. + +Calista smiled, and the old woman laughed they heartily. + +"So they are, old man—so they are; but that's only the outside. Bless +the Master's name, he don't look at their skins. And old Sister +Williams, she told me herself that the folks was up in arms about the +way this child was treated. But I'm most sorry we took her, for she's +such a smart, clever, lively little piece, I sha'n't never want to part +with her." + +All this time Sally had been, on hospitable thoughts intent, covering +a little table with a white cloth, and setting thereon white bread, +golden butter, a great pitcher of milk and cream, and various other +good things. Having finished her preparations, she invited Calista to +draw her chair to the table, excusing herself for having no meat cooked. + +"This hot weather we don't do much cooking. We generally eats bread and +milk, or some such thing, at noon, and I cooks something for supper. +But I can make a fire and boil Missy some eggs in a minute." + +"No, thank you," said Calista. "I like this beautiful, cool milk better +than anything." + +"That's just what Drusella Pine says," replied old Sally, much +delighted. "She says, 'Aunt, we can get meat in the city, but we can't +get such milk as you have here—not for no price,' says she." + +"Philadelphy's pretty well off for milk, too, for a city," remarked +Cassius. "Not like New York." + +Cassius always spoke of New York with a kind of pitying contempt, as a +place which might come to something some time, but could never hope to +vie, either in beauty or importance, with "Philadelphy." + +"I wanted to ask about Drusella," said Calista. "When is she coming?" + +"We expect her to-night," answered Cassius. "I'm going to meet her at +the Cohansey stage and bring her out here. She'll stay with us a few +weeks, and then, I expect, she'll have to rent a room in Cohansey. It +is too far out here for her business." + +"I asked because I thought she would, perhaps, do some work for me," +said Calista. "Miss Druett wants me to have a couple of dresses made, +and she told me to call and see if Drusella could take them home and +cut and fit them." + +"I'll speak to her about it the first thing Monday morning," said +Cassius. "I don't doubt she'll be glad to do the work. I hope Missy +means to go to the preaching to-morrow night?" + +"Oh, yes, I shall go," said Calista. "Thank you very much, Aunt Sally, +for your nice lunch. I only wish I could make you any return for all +your kindness to me." + +"Law, Missy, don't you think of such a thing!" said Sally. "Your family +has done more for us than we can ever pay." + + +"Well, I'm glad the poor child is going to have some new frocks, for +once in her life," she added as Cassius came back to the house. "I only +wonder how she came by them. Have a drink, old man?" + +"Maybe Miss Priscilla's turning liberal," observed Cassius, accepting +the offer. + +"Maybe the sky's turning pea-green!" returned Sally, scornfully. "Maybe +that milk you're a-drinking is made of melted pearls!" + +"Don't taste like it," said Cassius. "Tastes like first-rate cow's +milk." + +"Much you know how melted pearls taste! There, now, don't go to work in +the sun right off. Sit down in the big chair and have a nap. Naps in +the middle of the day is good for old folks." + + +Calista arrived at home just as Friend Anderson and Miss Priscilla +had finished their business, which had not been done without some +wrangling; Miss Priscilla maintaining that the money was twenty-five +cents short. + +"Thee is in the wrong," said Jacob Anderson, "but I will pay the money +rather than dispute longer. I will thank thee for a receipt." + +"What is the use of a receipt when it is endorsed on the bond?" snapped +Miss Priscilla. + +"I'll trouble thee for the receipt all the same," said the old Friend. +"Accidents sometimes happen, and there is so harm in a double security." + +"Won't you have a cup of tea, Friend Anderson?" said Miss Druett, +struck with the old man's weary expression. "You look very tired." + +"No, thank thee, Friend Druett. I am a poor man, but I don't think I +could swallow grudged victuals. They would stick in my throat. Thank +thee for the offer all the same. Farewell, Priscilla; I hope thee may +some day come to a better mind. Remember, if riches don't leave thee, +thee will have to leave them. When thee comes to lie on a death-bed, +like my poor sister, twenty-five cents won't look quite so big to thee +as it does now." + +And Jacob Anderson took his departure, having certainly taken the worth +of his twenty-five cents out of Miss Priscilla. + +"So you had your ride for nothing," remarked Miss Druett. + +"Not altogether. I did your errand at the bank, and stopped to see +about Drusella Pine. She is coming to-night, and Cassius says he will +send her over Monday morning." + +"What on earth do you want with Drusella Pine?" asked Miss Priscilla. + +"I want her to cut and fit the child's new frocks, and perhaps make one +of them. She has not a decent thing to wear." + +"She is not coming here to make it, I can tell you that," said Miss +Priscilla, in alarm. "I won't have a dressmaker eating more than her +day's wages, and telling and tattling about family matters all over." + +"Don't alarm yourself, I have no intention of having her here," +replied Miss Druett; "she need not come into the house, if you prefer +she should not. Calista and I can go over there. Don't you want some +dinner, child?" + +"No, thank you, Miss Druett. I had a good lunch of bread and milk and +gingerbread at Aunt Sally's?" + +"Sally makes a great deal of you, it seems to me," said Miss Priscilla. +"I dare say she would not offer me so much as a crust." + +"Oh, yes, she would, aunt; try her and see." + +"Did you hear any news?" asked Miss Druett. + +"Only about Mrs. Rolfe; they say she cannot live but a few days, at the +outside." + +"That will be a great relief to her family," said Miss Priscilla; "it +must cost a great deal to have her ill so long." + +"I don't believe they feel in that way," observed Calista; "they are +all very fond of 'Aunty Rolfe,' as they call her. Can I do anything for +you, Miss Druett?" + +"No, child, unless you can find a brick to heat for my face. I am going +to try to get a little sleep, for I had none last night." + +Calista found the brick and heated it, and having done all in her power +to make Miss Druett comfortable, she betook herself to her own room. + +How she would have liked to set her mother's work-box and writing-desk +on the table; but she knew it would never do, though she did venture +to arrange her small store of books on two shelves which had long +ago been put up in a corner. These books were, as I have said, +chiefly religious; but there was a thick, fine-printed but handsome +Shakespeare, with her father's name in it, and some volumes of English +poetry—Cowper, Goldsmith, Young's "Night Thoughts," and others of that +stamp. There was a "Saint's Rest," much used and blotted here and there +with tears; a "Pilgrim's Progress," apparently quite new, and the "Life +of Mrs. Fletcher," by H. More. + + +The next morning, Miss Druett was really ill with a severe cold, and +Calista, was kept busy all day running and waiting on her. As it came +towards night, however, Miss Druett felt better, and insisted on +Calista going to the meeting. Calista had felt a dull, miserable pain +at her heart all day; she could see no way of deliverance, and she did +not hope for much help at the meeting; but she had promised to go, and +she went. + +She was surprised to see what a large congregation had been collected +by the exertions of Cassius and the others who had interested +themselves in the matter. Sally and her husband had washed the windows +and floor, dusted the benches and pulpit, and really made the poor +deserted old sanctuary look bright and cheerful. Cassius, who was +acting as sexton, assigned Calista a seat near the desk, where the +minister was already seated. + +He was an elderly, somewhat hard-featured man, who looked as some one +said of another minister, as if he had been through the fire and come +out brightened and also a little hardened by the process. He glanced +at Calista with peculiar interest, and Calista wondered whether he was +thinking that she looked like her father. That, however, was not the +case. He was thinking, "That child looks as if she were in some great +trouble. I wonder what it is. God help her." + +The service began with a hymn, then a chapter in the Bible—the first of +St. John's gospel—then a prayer, and then came the announcement of the +text, taken from the same chapter: + + "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." + +The style was so plain that a child could have understood it; plain +with the simplicity of high cultivation and much reading, and also that +of deep feeling. It was evident that the preacher meant every word he +said. Calista drank it in as a man dying in the alkaline desert would +take in a draught of cool, fair water brought from a mountain spring. +Here was the Saviour she needed—he who was called Jesus, because he +came to save his people from their sins; because his blood cleansed +away sin; because he suffered in their stead; because he blotted out +transgression in the past and promised help for the future. + +As the preacher went on in his even, mellow voice, so clear, so calm +and tender, setting forth Jesus Christ crucified in the place of +sinners, Calista's head sank down on the bench before her, and her full +heart overflowed at her. The question was no longer with her, "Can I +forgive Aunt Priscilla?" but "What, oh, what can I do for him who has +done so much for me; who has paid the debt I owed; who has so loved me +all these years that I have never thought of him at all?" + +Calista's was not the only bowed head in the assembly. There was a +universal silence and hush, and even the careless and wild young men +whose presence in the back part of the room had caused Cassius and +others some anxiety sat hushed and silent. + +The sermon was short—too short for Calista, who would have liked +to sit an hour longer. The speaker announced that a prayer meeting +would be held in the same place on Wednesday evening, and that after +the service, he should be glad to converse with any one who wished +for further religious instruction. Then a hymn was sung and the +congregation dismissed. + +Two or three of the better class of neighbors came up to speak to the +minister. + +And one grave, formal old man, after saying good-evening, turned to +Cassius and reproved him, with some asperity, for letting in Tom Edgar +and his companions. + +"Why, Mr. Heminway, I thought they were just the people who needed the +gospel," answered Cassius, no ways abashed. "I suppose Tom Edgar has a +soul to be saved, and that the Lord died to save it, and he ain't any +worse than the publicans and sinners that same Lord preached to and sat +down to table with." + +"That was very different," said the old man. "Tom Edgar is a swearing, +fighting, drunken sot,—the pest of the whole neighborhood." + +"So much the more need of his having the gospel preached to him," +returned Cassius. "Ain't that so, Mr. Alger?" + +"Certainly," answered the minister, promptly. "Was that tall, dark +young man by the door Tom Edgar? I looked at him several times, and +thought him quiet and attentive enough. He sings very finely." + +"Well, Mr. Alger, all I have to say is, that if you encourage such +sort of people, you will have enough of it. That is the worst of these +outside and out of the way meetings. They draw in all the riffraff of +the community. * If only the respectable people will come, it would be +very well." + + * This is no exaggeration. + +"Inasmuch as there is joy in the presence of the angels over one sinner +that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons who need +no repentance, perhaps that may be an effect of outside meetings not +altogether displeasing to him who has promised to be in the midst of +us," said Mr. Alger, mildly. + +Mr. Heminway deigned no answer, but walked away. + +"Well, for my part, I was downright glad to see the poor young fellow +come in," said Mr. Davis, a small, plain man, who rented one of Miss +Priscilla's farms. "Tom Edgar was just one of the nicest little boys +that ever lived to begin with, but he hadn't much chance. His father +never spoke a kind word to him, and whipped him half to death for every +little fault, and his stepmother, who was young and a kind-hearted +little thing, thought to make it up by indulging him in everything, and +covering up his faults just as far as she could. Tom ain't altogether +bad. Don't you remember how he risked his life nursing that poor +creature that had the fever up in the woods here?" + +"I must try to have a talk with him," said the minister. "Who was that +very pretty girl who sat near the desk and seemed so much affected?" + +"Oh, that was old Miss Stanfield's niece," said Mr. Heminway, who had +rejoined the group. + +"That was Miss Calista Stanfield, daughter of Mr. Richard, and +granddaughter of old General Stanfield of the mansion house," said +Cassius, with a glance of severe rebuke at the first speaker. "She is +as fine a young lady as any in the country." + +"That she is," rejoined Mr. Davis. "I wish her aunt was only half as +much of a lady. I wonder why Miss Druett wasn't down. I kind of thought +she would be." + +"Oh, she's sick abed with a cold. As to Miss Priscilla, I should +think the millennium was coming sure enough if I should see her in a +religious meeting. Well, Mr. Alger, I'm sure we have had a profitable +time to-night, and I hope it may be the beginning of better things." + + +Calista went home as it were on wings. She hardly felt the ground on +which she trod. The whole world seemed changed to her. Here was the +Friend, the Protector, the Helper, the Physician, she needed, all in +one. She had been walking in darkness, and here was light; hungry and +thirsty, and here was the bread and the water of life; shut in with +bolts and bars, and here was the deliverer who had broken the gates +of brass and burst the bars of iron asunder, and the guide who would +lead and teach her in the way she should go. She had been fighting with +what she knew to be sin, and here was one who came before her saying, +gently,— + + "'Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord.' + + "'I, even I, am he that comforteth you.'" + +Calista had, of course, much to learn of the force of temptation, of +inbred sin, and of the corruption of her own heart, but of these things +she did not think, nor would there have been any wisdom, but quite the +contrary, in telling her of them. The traveller who sets out on a long +journey knows very well that he will meet many discomforts, trials, and +dangers; but he would be a foolish man who should lose the freshness of +the morning, and the singing of the birds, and the beauty of flowers +and scenery, in pondering over these coming dangers and trials. + +Calista went up to Miss Druett's room, and softly opened the door. + +"Come in, child, I am not asleep," said Miss Druett. "Come and tell me +how you liked the meeting." + +"Oh, so much, Miss Druett. How I wish you had been there." + +"Then you had a fine sermon?" + +"I don't know whether it was fine or not," answered Calista. "I never +thought. I knew it was just what I wanted." + +Miss Druett drew Calista nearer to her, and fixed her piercing eyes on +her face. Then she sighed deeply. + +"I see," said she. "You have found him of whom Moses and the Prophets +did write." + +"You are not sorry, are you, Miss Druett?" + +"No, child! Heaven forbid! I found him once, or so I thought; but I +lost him again." + +"Oh, Miss Druett! Surely he did not forsake you!" + +"No: I forsook him. I quarrelled with him because he would not give me +the sweets I cried for, and I have never seen him since. I shall never +find him again, I fear." + +"Perhaps he will find you," said Calista softly. "You know that was +what he came for—to seek and to save that which was lost." + +Miss Druett had always rather suffered than returned Calista's +caresses, but now she drew the girl down to her, and held her in a +long, close embrace. + +"Get your Bible and read the same chapter the minister read." + +Calista obeyed, and Miss Druett listened with evident pleasure and +interest. + +"To think that any man with a heart could turn that into ridicule, +whether he believed it or not!" said she when the chapter was finished. +"Now tell me what hymns they sang. Do you know any of them?" + +"Yes, ma'am. I know the whole of—" + + "'Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,—' + +"because we sing it sometimes in church." + +"Sing it." + +Calista sang the tender, simple old hymn, worth more than whole piles +of sentimental stuff which go under the name of hymns in some quarters +in these days. Miss Druett listened, and more than one tear stole out +from under her closed eyelids. + +Miss Priscilla listened as she nodded over her volume of Rousseau, in +the parlors below, and made up her mind that she was not going to have +that sort of thing going on in the house to please Druey nor any one +else. + +"Thank you, child. Your voice is like your father's and your +grandmother's. There, get me some fresh water, and leave me alone. I +dare say I shall have a good night." + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. + +OLD JAEL. + +CALISTA rose early as usual, with the feeling that she was entering on +a new life. She had lived heretofore for herself—now she must begin to +live for him who had live and died, and lived again, for her. She read +over again her mother's letter, and saw hosts of new meanings in it. +Especially was she struck with these words: + + "You must expect to meet with many trials within and without. It may be +that you will no sooner resolve to be wholly a Christian than you will +find yourself assaulted with more ad sorer temptations than you have +ever experienced. This will be partly because you will see things to be +wrong which you never thought to be so before—partly, but not wholly. +Satan makes his fiercest assaults upon those who are just escaping from +his grasp. Be instant in prayer, study your Bible daily, and I would +advise you also to study the 'Pilgrim's Progress.' You will find it a +treasury of help and instruction." + +Some persons might have been discouraged by such a warning—Calista was +not so. + +"Sure I must fight if I would win," she said to herself. "I always did +like that hymn." + +And she began to sing it, and then instantly checked herself as she +considered that might wake her neighbors. + +"I believe I will go out and get the flowers I promised Tessy," said +she. "When I am out in the woods, I can sing as much as I please." + +She put on her oldest frock and shoes—not that there was so very much +to choose between oldest and newest—and, crossing the burying-place, +was soon in the shady place where she knew the laurel lingered longest. +It was a little hollow on the edge of the woods, and was kept green +and damp by three or four springs which united their waters to form +a rill—a somewhat uncommon sight in those parts. The place was no +favorite with the country people. On one side of the dell was a curious +grave-shaped mound, from beneath which rose one of the little springs +I have mentioned, which was reddened by oxide of iron. It was believed +that a murdered man and his murderer had there been buried in one +grave, and that the water, in its color, still bore witness to the +deed—and that a kind of venomous snake was found there which lived +nowhere else. + +Calista had no superstitious fears, and she had never seen any of +the snakes, so she was not at all alarmed, but went on gathering her +flowers, and then, catching sight of a great prize—a fine cluster of +yellow moccasin-flowers—she descended to the centre of the hollow, +and, stepping lightly and carefully—for the centre of the hollow was +dangerously soft and boggy—she secured her prize. As she did so, she +was startled by an odd, hollow-sounding laugh, and rose hastily, +to find herself face to face with a very tall woman, dressed in +indescribable rags, whom she at once guessed to be Old Jael, the +fortune-teller. + +"Well done!" said the woman, with another mocking laugh. "'Tis a bold +young lady who comes alone to the Murderer's Hollow to gather flowers." + +"Why, you come here yourself, it seems," said Calista, whose spirit +always rose against any attempt to frighten her; "why should I need any +more boldness than you?" + +"Ah, but I go to many places where the young lady dare not go," +answered the old woman; "and in the dead of night, too." + +"I dare say," returned Calista; "but you see I come in broad day, and +for a good purpose, so I carry the blessing of God with me, and have +nothing to fear." + +"Nothing!" repeated the old woman. "Not even the snakes!" + +"I have often been here and have never seen any snakes," said Calista. + +"Well, I like a bold spirit," said the old woman. "Don't pretty Missy +want her fortune told? Old Jael can tell her any fine things past and +future." + +"I know the past for myself, and as for the future, it is in God's +hands," answered Calista; "he knows it, and that is far better than +knowing it myself." + +"Mighty fine words!" said the old woman; "but maybe I can make the +proud young lady change her tune, when I tell her where she was—say +last Wednesday evening—peeping and looking for the red gold all alone +in the secret chamber!" + +"I can do as much as that," said Calista, struck by a sudden thought; +"I can tell who was climbing up on an old wall, peeping through holes +and crannies like a cat." + +The old Woman, who had evidently calculated greatly on the effect of +her words, drew back as if some one had struck her, and turned more +ashy pale than she was before. + +"No, Mother Jael, I want none of your skill," said Calista, as she +turned to go. "As you have offered to tell my fortune, I will tell you +something in return: 'he that believeth on the Son of God hath eternal +life, and he that believeth not shall not see life, but the wrath of +God abideth on him.' I advise you to go to the meeting Wednesday night, +and learn what will do you good. Good-morning." + +The woman nodded not ungraciously, and stood looking till Calista was +out of sight. + +"You are a bold one, anyhow, and I like your spunk; but—Yes, we must +have her out of the way, or we shall do nothing." + +Muttering thus to herself, she walked away in the opposite direction +with more activity than could have been expected. + + +Calista put her flowers in water, changed her draggled dress and shoes, +and then went to see Miss Druett, whom she found, to her surprise, up +and ready for breakfast. + +"Are you able to go down?" asked Calista. "I was coming to ask if I had +better not stay at home and take care of you." + +"Nonsense, child! I am not sick; it is only a cold. Where have you been +so early?" + +"I have been in the Red Hollow after flowers, and I have met the +presiding genius of the place." + +And Calista recounted her adventure. + +"Were you not frightened?" asked Miss Druett. + +"Not a bit! I believe I scared her a good deal more than she did me." + +"Still, I don't like your meeting her." + +"But, dear Miss Druett, I can't stay in the house all the time for fear +of Old Jael. Do you think, like Chloe, that she is a witch?" + +"I think she is an unscrupulous, wicked woman, and that is bad enough," +replied Miss Druett. "I don't like to have you lose one of your few +pleasures, but I must say I don't fancy your meeting her. How bright +you look!" + +"I feel bright; I feel as if I were in a new world. Oh, Miss Druett, if +you would only find him too! Why won't you try?" + +"There, don't talk about it, child," replied Miss Druett, hastily; +"pray that he may find me, and perhaps he will. Come, it is time to go +down." + + +Calista walked somewhat more slowly than usual this morning, and +reached the school-room just as the first bell rung. She went directly +to her desk and looked into it, half hoping to see the missing +needle-case, which she disliked losing, both for its own sake and +because she knew the trouble the loss would occasion at home. It was +not there, however, and her desk was exactly as she left it. + +"It is very strange," thought Calista; "anyway, I am sure Mary did not +take it." + +Mary Burns and Antoinette Diaments were the last to enter—the latter in +her riding-dress, which she had had no time to change. She had hoped +to reach school in time to restore the case to its place, but in this +she was disappointed; and as she looked at its beauty, she could hardly +make up her mind to return it at all. + +"Calista is so giddy, Miss McPherson will think she lost it herself; +and so will Miss Meeks, if I can only get held of her first." + +Mary Burns looked tired and worn with grief and watching, as, indeed, +she was; but her face, in all its sorrowful paleness, had a steadfast, +settled expression. She knew in whom she had put her trust, and she +did not believe he would desert her in the hour of need, however he +might suffer her to be tried. For this poor, plain, stammering tailor's +daughter had a faith which nothing could shake. She would have faced +all the sophistry of all the infidels in the world with the simple +unanswerable argument of St. John: + + "WE have SEEN him." + +It was the custom on Monday morning for each person in the school-room, +beginning with Miss McPherson herself, to recite a verse from Holy +Scripture. The verses this morning were unusually significant to those +who were in the secrets of the past few days. Miss McPherson's was from +the thirty-second Psalm and fifth verse: + + "'I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou +forgavest the iniquity of my sin.'" + +Miss Jessy's (with a beseeching glance at poor Mary) was: + + "'If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our +sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.'" (1 John 1:9.) + +Miss Meeks (sharply, and with a glance in the same direction): + + "'Be sure your sin will find you out.'" (Numbers 32:23.) + +It was Mary Burns's turn next, and she spoke up clearly, and with a +bright light in her usually pale blue eyes. + + "He shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment +as the noonday." (Ps. 37:6.) + +"How hardened she must be to choose that verse!" thought Miss Meeks. + +But Miss McPherson and Miss Jessy exchanged a glance which said, "She +is innocent, whoever is guilty." + +Antoinette was unfortunate. She had opened hastily to the same Psalm, +and, keeping her Bible in her lap (for she had quite forgotten to learn +a verse), she read the first her eye fell upon: + + "The wicked borroweth, and payeth not again: but the righteous is +merciful, and giveth." (Ps. 37:21.) + +Calista's eyes brightened and her color deepened beautifully as she +repeated: + + "We have found him, of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets, did +write, Jesus of Nazareth." (John 1:45.) + +There was a short silence after Miss McPherson's prayer, is which +she asked that the innocent might be justified and the guilty led to +confession and amendment. Then she made a little speech. She said most +of those before her had heard of the loss of the needle-case from Miss +Stanfield's desk, and the suspicion which had fallen on one of their +number. If the matter had not become public already, she should not +have made it so, but she hoped all would suspend their judgment. + +Then she asked, "Can any one throw any light on this matter?" + +Then, as no one else said anything, Calista spoke modestly: + +"Miss McPherson, there is one point at least in which Mary Burns can be +cleared. She said that she saw Antoinette come out of the school-room +at a quarter to nine, but Miss Meeks thought she must be wrong, because +Antoinette went away before eight." + +She paused and looked at Antoinette, who gave her a vengeful glance in +return. + +"Well, what then?" asked Miss McPherson, after waiting a moment for +Antoinette to speak. + +"Tessy told me that her cousin came back because some accident happened +to the horse," answered Calista. "Antoinette staid in Tessy's room till +just before the quarter bell rung, and then went to the school-room, or +so Tessy thought. So Mary might have seen her, as she said." + +"Is this true?" asked Miss McPherson of Antoinette. + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Antoinette, temper and the wish for revenge +getting the better of her prudence. "I did not mean to say anything, +but, since Miss Stanfield seems determined to throw the blame upon me, +I must tell the whole story. I was in the school-room a moment, my +skirt came untied, and I stepped behind the study door to fasten it. As +I stood there, I saw Mary Burns come into the room and look into Miss +Stanfield's desk. She turned the things over till she found something, +and dropped it into her inside pocket. Then she took a book, shut the +desk, and went hastily out." + +"You did not see what she took?" said Miss McPherson. + +"No, ma'am. It was something pretty heavy, which pulled her pocket +down, and jingled a little." + +"What do you say to this, Mary Burns?" asked Miss McPherson, turning to +her. + +"It is not true, Miss McPherson. I did not turn over one thing. I took +up the 'Lady of the Lake' and read a little, and then I laid it down, +took the volume of Goldsmith, and carried it away. I have no more to +say." + +"I am sure I don't know what to think," said Miss McPherson, much +perplexed. + +"I should say it was all very plain," said Miss Meeks, not perplexed +at all, as, indeed, people seldom are who have made up their minds +beforehand. "Here is positive evidence on one side, and simple denial +on the other." + +"Good!" thought Antoinette. "You might have held your tongue, Miss +Stanfield." + +But another witness was to the fore on whom she had not calculated. +Elizabeth Howell had come a little late and sat down quietly by the +door. She now rose up, tall, fair, and prim, as delicate as an August +lily, in her light-gray bombazine and clean muslin kerchief and apron. + +"I should like to speak to thee in private, Friend McPherson." + +"What can she have to say?" thought Antoinette, but without much +misgiving. "She does not know anything about the matter. I took care of +that." + +After a few minutes' conversation, Miss McPherson opened the door of +her private room and called— + +"Miss Meeks, will you come in? Miss Burns, Miss Stanfield, Miss +Antoinette Diaments, Miss Settson, please come also. The young ladies +will recite their French grammar to Miss Jessy." + + +The party tolerably filled the little room. Elizabeth looked a little +flushed, and Miss McPherson both grieved and angry. + +"You will please listen, Miss Meeks and young ladies, to what Elizabeth +Howell has to say." + +"First, if Friend McPherson pleases, I should like, Calista, to hear +thee describe the needle-case." + +Calista did so, taxing her memory to be exact in every particular. + +"Precisely so!" said Elizabeth. "I saw Antoinette Diaments at her +cousin Richard Whitecar's, in Graywich, and she had and was using just +such a case as Calista describes." + +"How could you see it, I should like to know, when I put it in my +pocket before you came into the room?" asked Antoinette, unguardedly. + +"Then you admit that you had it!" said Miss McPherson. + +Antoinette saw she had betrayed herself, and was sullenly silent. + +"Please answer her question, Elizabeth." + +"I saw the whole through the window, and reflected in the large mirror +opposite," answered Elizabeth. "I came in by the back way, as I often +do." (The two families being relations as well as neighbors.) "I stood +two or three minutes watching some kittens at play, and then looked +into the room. I could not see Antoinette—only her reflection in the +glass, and this case on the table, with the scissors, by her side. +Antoinette was using the thimble. I was rather struck, and it did occur +to me to wonder whether this was the needle-case that had made all the +trouble. Then Richard Whitecar came along and spoke to me, and I saw +Antoinette hastily gather up the things and put them in her pocket. +Then I felt quite sure. I meant to speak to Antoinette about the +matter, but had no private opportunity. It seemed to me this morning +that the attempt to throw blame on Mary Burns was a clear call to tell +what I knew." + +There was a moment's silence, and then Miss McPherson said, in a +sterner tone than had ever been heard from her before— + +"Antoinette, where is the needle-case?" + +Antoinette was obstinately silent. + +"Miss Meeks, you will please search Miss Diaments's room thoroughly, +and especially her travelling-basket and work-bag. Antoinette, stay +here—" (For Antoinette was moving toward the door). "Sit down on that +chair, and do not stir from it till I give you permission. I will have +this matter sifted to the bottom." + +There was a short but very awkward pause till Miss Meeks returned +without the needle-case, and looking a good deal excited. + +"I cannot find it," said she. + +"Of course you can't, when it is not there!" said Antoinette, in a tone +of triumph. + +"Look in her desk," was the next order. + +"Look as much as you please!" said Antoinette insolently. + +But her manner changed as Miss Meeks said pointedly, "There are some +things in Miss Diaments's room which need investigation." + +"I will attend to that matter," said the principal. "Look in her +pockets." + +Antoinette turned pale. + +"I won't have my pockets searched!" she stammered. "It is a pity if the +daughter of one of the richest men in the state is to be insulted for +the sake of beggarly tailor's girl!" + +Antoinette had kept fast hold of her work-bag, but in her agitation she +dropped it. It fell on the floor with a heavy, ringing sound. + +Miss Meeks picked it up and opened it. There was the case. + +"Antoinette, I beg for your own sake you will confess the whole +matter," said Miss McPherson, earnestly. "Tell the whole truth, my poor +child." + +"I shall not tell anything!" answered Antoinette. "If you choose to +make a fuss about it you can. I guess you will lose more than I shall. +I don't think you will make much by quarrelling with the richest man in +the state for the sake of tippling old tailor Burns's daughter." + +Those who knew Miss McPherson actually trembled for the effect of these +words. That lady, however, answered with a calmness more alarming than +any storm— + +"Miss Diaments, you are no longer a member of this school. You will +remain in this room till I can send for your uncle. Mary Burns, my +dear, you are entirely cleared from the shadow of blame. Is she not, +Miss Meeks?" + +"So far as this matter is concerned, certainly," said Miss Meeks; "but +I must remind her that but for certain past equivocations, to call them +by a mild name, I should not have suspected her." + +"I know I have not always told the truth exactly, Miss Meeks," answered +Mary, humbly. "I have been easily frightened and confused, and +sometimes I have seemed to tell lies when I did not mean to. But I hope +I shall be enabled to do better, and not think so much of what men will +think of me." + +Miss Meeks was melted. She kissed Mary, and told her she had no doubt +she meant to be a very good girl. + +"You will now all return to your places," said Miss McPherson. "Miss +Meeks will clear Miss Burns, and I hope we shall none of us be the +worse for the lesson we have received." + +Miss McPherson spent some time in trying to persuade Antoinette to +a confession, but Antoinette was obstinate. The fact was, she did +not believe Miss McPherson would dare to expel her, and took all her +persuasive gentleness for a method of getting gracefully out of the +scrape. + +"Very well, I shall say no more," said Miss McPherson. And rising she +led Antoinette to a smaller room which opened from her own, and which +was used in extreme cases as a kind of chamber of penitence. "You will +remain in this room, seeing no one, till I can see your uncle, and make +arrangements for you to return with him." + +"I must put up my things," said Antoinette, for the first time showing +some alarm. + +"I shall myself look over and put up your things with the assistance of +Mrs. McGregor." + +Antoinette now gave way entirely, and with tears and sobs and the most +abject entreaties begged to be allowed to go to her room, if only for a +few minutes, to put up her own things. + +"No," answered Miss McPherson, her suspicions confirmed by Antoinette's +conduct. "I must attend to that matter myself. The servant will bring +your dinner, but you will not leave this room." + +So saying Miss McPherson left the room, shutting and locking the door. +She was sorry for the girl, but hers was not the false compassion +which will expose the innocent to contamination on the mere chance +of reforming the guilty. She found more than enough in her search of +Antoinette's room to confirm her resolution. It was astonishing to see +how many little articles, some of considerable value, which had been +given up for lost by their owners, were found carefully hidden in boxes +and under beds. It seemed evident that Antoinette must have carried on +the business of petty thieving almost ever since she had been in the +school. + +Antoinette departed in the afternoon, regretted by no one, unless by +Tessy, who had been the greatest sufferer by her meanness. I may as +well say that neither her father nor mother believed one word against +their daughter, her mother declaring that Antoinette never told a lie +in her life. Two or three large sums paid on account of shoplifting +performances, and a final disgraceful elopement, partly opened her +father's eyes, but her mother persisted in declaring that it was all +the fault of the influences under which poor Antoinette was thrown at +that abominable Cohansey school. + +This is no fancy sketch, as many a teacher can testify. It is no +wonder, seeing of what it is the root and spring, that God abhors +covetousness. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. + +EVIL INFLUENCES. + +"WELL, I am sorry for Antoinette, after all," said Calista, as the +girls gathered in the play-ground. + +"So am not I," returned Mary Settson. "She brought it all on herself, +and deserves a far worse punishment." + +"I don't deny that, but still I am sorry for her. And, Mary, what would +have become of all of us if somebody had not been sorry for us while we +were yet sinners?" + +"But she was so mean to try to throw all on poor Mary." + +"That is true. I don't extenuate her fault in the least, but still I am +sorry for her." + +"Well, I ain't so sure, after all, about this business," said Charity +Latch, who was a great worshipper of wealth. "It seems a great deal +more likely that a poor beggar like Mary Burns should steal than that +Antoinette should." + +"I should like to know what makes Mary Burns a beggar," said two or +three girls at once, and Emma added, "Did she ever beg anything of you?" + +"If she did, she didn't get it," said Belle. "We all know Mary is poor, +but there is not a girl in the school less of a beggar than she. I +think she even goes too far the other way. She just hates to receive +a favor. As to Antoinette, there can be no doubt. She not only took +the needle-case, but a good many other things besides, my button-hole +scissors and cornelian necklace, that I thought I lost in the street, +among others. One would think she need not have done that, when she had +such lovely cameos of her own." + +"I am glad Mary is cleared, anyhow," observed Calista. "Dear little +soul, how pretty she looked when she stood up and said her verse! And I +am glad I have my needle-case back, but I am sorry for Antoinette, and +I think—" Calista hesitated a little and blushed as she added—"I think +we ought to pray for her." + +"What, is Saul among the prophets?" said Belle. "Are you going to be +another Mary Settson? We sinners are likely to be deserted entirely." + +Mary put on her "martyr face," as Belle called it, and turned away. +Calista only said, gently and seriously— + +"Don't, Belle. I know you don't mean any harm, but don't make fun of +religion or things connected with it. Think if your words should come +true!" + +"Well, I won't," said Belle, more seriously; "I know you are right, +even as a matter of good taste. But tell us, Calista, do you really +mean to be a Christian, like Mary and Clarissa Whitman?" + +"I don't know that I shall be like anybody," replied Calista, "but I do +really mean to be a Christian if I can." + +"Well, for my part, I'd wait and see if I was going to persevere, +if I were you, before I spoke out so plainly," said Charity. "But I +don't call any girl in this school a consistent Christian, for my +part. There's Clary Whitman—just look at her playing battledore and +shuttlecock with Emma Ross." + +"Well, where is the harm? I don't know anything in the Bible against +playing battledore and shuttlecock, do you? I am sure Clary Whitman +is a good girl, if there ever was one," said Belle, warmly; for she +was one of those happy spirits that delight in the goodness of other +people. "Come, Calista, will you have a game, or do you think it is +wicked?" + +"Not a bit," said Calista; "but I can't play now, Belle. I must find +Mary; I have something to tell her." + +Calista found Mary Settson sitting pensively in the school-room, and +sat down by her. + +"What is the matter?" she asked. "Surely you don't mind Belle's words. +You know she means no harm." + +"I don't know how you can say that, when she laughs at religion as she +does." + +"Oh, she was not laughing at religion exactly, she was laughing at us. +Besides, when I told her I did not think it was right, she stopped +directly. But I want to tell you ever so many things, Mary—so many, I +don't know where to begin. But, first of all, Mary, I have found him, +as my verse said. I have found Jesus of Nazareth." + +The little snake of jealousy and ill-humor which had been hissing in +Mary's heart for a few minutes was silent and dived into his den. She +kissed Calista. + +"Tell me how it was," said she. + +"It began with mother's Bible, and some letters I found in her desk—for +you must know that, thanks to Miss Druett, I have all mother's things. +I made up my mind that I must and would be a Christian, and then I +found a letter—such a letter!—from Aunt Priscilla to mother. + +"That upset me again, for I knew I must forgive, or my own sins would +never be forgiven; and I felt sure I never could. But Sunday evening +Mr. Alger preached in the old red meeting-house, and I went to hear +him. His text was,— + + "'Behold the Lamb of God!' + +"Oh, Mary, I can't tell it all, but he made me see him in the garden +and on the cross, and all for me. All the bitterness seemed to go out +of my heart, and I felt I could forgive anything—even the cruelty to my +poor, gentle mother. I said,— + + "'Lord, if thou wilt—' + +"And he did. I did not do it at all." + +"I am sure I am very thankful," said Mary; "I did not suppose Mr. Alger +was a very eloquent preacher." + +"I don't know whether he was eloquent or not," said Calista; "I did +not think of the preacher at all—it was what he said. He brought me +just the help I wanted. And we are to have another meeting Wednesday +evening, and perhaps a Sunday-school." + +"I rather wonder your aunt should let you go," said Mary. + +"Oh, I did not ask her. Miss Druett let me. I am to be Miss Druett's +girl now. But, all the same, I mean to qualify myself for a teacher, +as you advised me. I think one can do as much good in that way as any +other; don't you?" + +"Yes, indeed; but I hope you won't ever have to work for a living, +Calista." + +"Oh, I shall not mind, if only I am as well and strong as I am now. By +the way, when is your father coming home?" + +"Oh, not for a long time, and that is something I had to tell you," +replied Mary. "Father has written from Princeton for Alice and me to +join him there, and we are going a long journey with him up to Vermont +or somewhere. This is the last day I shall have in school." + +"Oh, how sorry I am! I was counting on having you sit with me." + +"I will next term. And, Calista, if you like, you can have my place in +the drawing-class. There are three weeks to vacation, and you might do +quite a good deal in that time." + +"Oh, thank you! I shall like it ever so much! I have all mother's +pencils and paints. But I am so sorry you are going away. I shall miss +you more than ever now." + +"You will have a better friend than I," said Mary. "I shall feel a +great deal easier about you now that I know you have learned to love +him," she added, feeling that her sympathy with her friend had not been +as hearty as it ought to have been. In fact, the little snake had put +out his head again and whispered that it was very strange Calista had +been so affected by the preaching of such a dull old man as Mr. Alger, +while she (Mary) had talked and urged in vain. Surely Calista ought to +have listened to her. Probably it was only some passing excitement—some +mere emotion, and not a real conversion. But Mary had come to know the +voice of the serpent, and she, so to speak, set her heel on his head +with a force that sent him crushed and wounded to his den. + +The next day Mary went away, and Belle Adair came to occupy +Antoinette's vacant place. She was not precisely the companion Calista +would have chosen, but they got on well together. Belle recognized the +force of principle which made Calista absolutely refuse to whisper or +to take any notice of any little notes written in school hours. In her +turn she did Calista good by her orderly habits and punctuality in +doing the hour's work in its own hour. + +They soon became great friends, and every one noticed that Belle +had entirely left off her habit of jesting on serious subjects, and +that she even came down sharply on Charity for a riddle founded on +Scripture, telling her that was not the way to use the Bible. If +she had lived in these days, when "Bible Puzzles" are published in +religious newspapers, perhaps she would not have been so particular. + + +At the Old Stanfield Manor things were a good deal altered. Miss +Priscilla scrimped, and saved, and scolded, but did not interfere as +usual with Calista, and it seemed, sometimes, as if she were even +trying to conciliate her niece. + +Calista was sure her aunt had more than one interview with Zeke and +Jael. At first Miss Priscilla would steal out to the barn or the edge +of the wood, but at last the old woman would come boldly to the house +and ask for Miss Stanfield. Then the two would be closeted together for +an hour, and Jael would go away laden with provisions. These interviews +usually took place on Sunday morning or evening, when Miss Druett and +Calista were at church. For Miss Druett had taken to going to the +Sunday evening meetings, and had actually given something to help on +the repairs of the old meeting-house. + +"There goes Jael now!" said Calista, as they were walking home on +Wednesday evening, and came in sight of the house just in time to see +Jael leaving it with a large bundle in her arms. + +"What is that old woman after?" asked Calista. "Miss Druett, what does +it mean, do you suppose?" + +Miss Druett sighed. "I am afraid it means mischief, child. I wish Mr. +Settson would come home, though I hardly know what he could do if he +were here. Nobody could say that your aunt is insane. My only hope is +that she will become disgusted with the rapacity of these people, as +she was before. However, if Mr. Settson were here, he might find some +means of driving them away, though I fancy they are like some animals +which are said never to commit depredations in their own neighborhoods." + +"Did you notice Tom Edgar to-night?" asked Calista. + +"I noticed that he sung very finely, and seemed much affected. He seems +very regular in his attendance." + +"I heard him tell Mr. Alger that he hoped he had found the Lord at +last. And what do you think Mr. Heminway said?" + +"Something very encouraging, I dare say." + +"He said, 'Well, I hope he has; but he has been a dreadful wild, hard +case, and for my part I don't believe in sudden conversions.' + +"Then old Brother Davis said, 'Brother Heminway, it's a good thing you +wasn't in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost; you'd never have believed +in those three thousand being taken into the church.' + +"And then Mr. Heminway frowned, and said he didn't believe in using +Scripture in that way." + +"In what way?" + +"In the way that went against him, I suppose," answered Calista, +shrewdly. "I have noticed people seldom do. But I wanted to ask you +about the Sunday-school, Miss Druett. Mr. Alger wishes me to take a +class of little colored girls." + +"Well, I have no objections, if it does not tire you too much. You will +learn more than you will teach for a time, but that won't hurt you or +your scholars either." + +"Mr. Alger asked me if you would teach a class." + +"I would if I were able. I used to teach a Sunday-class years ago, in +Philadelphia, and liked it very much." + +"And don't you feel able?" + +"No, child. Oh, I am not sick; you need not open your eyes so wide, +and look so alarmed! But it tires me to talk much lately, and I shall +have to be a little more careful of my health than I have been. I am +beginning to find out that I have bones and nerves to ache and keep me +awake nights, as well as other people. But as to yourself, I think the +teaching will be very good for you. You will never find out how much +you don't know till you try to tell what you do know." + +"I have found that out already, helping Miss Meeks. But I do wish you +would have a doctor, Miss Druett." + +"Nonsense, child! I am not sick; what should I want a doctor for?" + +The next day Calista had been out in the pasture hunting mushrooms, and +coming back across the little burying-ground as the nearest way, she +stopped to pull some tall weeds from her grandfather's grave. As she +did so, she saw that the long grass had been disturbed and a little +earth scattered about. + +"Oh ho, Mr. Ground-squirrel, are you here!" said she. "I think you +might find a better place." + +As she moved away the long grass with her foot, she caught sight of +something glittering. She bent down and drew it out. It was a long +purse, such as people used in those days, and are beginning to use +again, and well filled with coin and bills. She knew it in a moment—her +aunt Priscilla's purse. How in the world did it come there? + +She did not stop to think, but hurried home and went straight to the +sitting-room, mushrooms and all. Miss Priscilla was nodding over her +book, Miss Druett sewing, as usual. + +"Aunt Priscilla, have you lost anything?" said she. + +Miss Priscilla started, put her hand in her pocket mechanically, and +turned pale as ashes. + +"My purse!" said she, in a kind of shrill whisper. "Where is my purse?" + +"When did you have it last?" asked Miss Druett. + +"Last night, at the back kitchen door. Oh, what shall I do? Who has +taken it?" + +"Here it is," said Calista, producing it. "Now, where do you guess I +found it?" + +"Out by the door," said Miss Druett. + +"Not a bit. You are not even warm." + +"Then you must tell us." + +"That I will, for I am sure you will never guess." And Calista told +where she had discovered the purse. + +Miss Priscilla looked more scared than ever. + +"You—you don't suppose he came and got it, do you, Druey?" + +"Your father, do you mean? No, indeed. I think some one took it and hid +it for purposes of their own—probably to make a parade of telling where +it was and restoring it." + +"Exactly," said Calista; "I never thought of that." + +"It was very odd that you should find it." + +"I would not if I had not stopped to pull the weeds from grandfather's +grave. Aunt Priscilla, why don't you have that place put in order? I +should not dare go near it, only that ivy never poisons me. It is a +shame to have it so neglected." + +"Well, well, perhaps I will some time," said Miss Priscilla, after she +had counted her money and found it was all there. "You are a lucky +girl, Calista. You are always finding things. Who knows but you would +find the pirates' gold, if you were to look for it?" + +"I never shall find it, because I never shall look for it," said +Calista, boldly. "I believe, as Cassius says, that if there is any such +treasure, it would be bloody gold and bring ill fortune to any one that +touched it." + +"Why do you let your thoughts run so much on such matters, Priscilla?" +said Miss Druett. "Suppose you found a thousand pounds of gold, what +good would it do you? You would never spend it or give it away, and any +minute you might be called to leave it." + +Miss Priscilla looked as if she thought "Druey" had suddenly gone mad. + +"What do you mean?" said she. + +"I mean what I say," said Miss Druett, "and I am going to free my mind +for once. You know that you must die, like all the rest of us. It is +the only event to which we can look forward with any certainty. You +cannot take money into the grave with you. Shrouds have no pockets, +and a coffin is made only just large enough to hold the corpse it is +meant for. Perhaps this very night you will hear the summons—then whose +shall those things be that you have prepared? Come, Priscy, we have +been wandering in the wilderness of this world a great many years; let +us set our faces heavenward, asking the way thither, and go heme to God +together." + +Calista had often noticed the curious musical chord in Miss Druett's +voice, but she had never heard its tones so rich and harmonious as now. +She sprung forward in her usual impulsive way, threw her arms round +Miss Druett's neck, and kissed her. + +"Oh, I am so glad!" she exclaimed. "Oh, do, Aunt Priscilla!" + +"Do what?" asked Miss Priscilla, sullenly. "I will tell you what I +won't do. I won't have my house turned into a Methodist meeting-house. +If you must believe in such nonsense, keep it to yourself. I haven't +made any objection to your running off to meeting and all that, but I +won't have any such stuff here, I tell you that." + +Just then Chloe opened the door with a handful of letters. + +"Here's the mail, and here's one for you, Miss Calista. You are in luck +to-day." + +"In more ways than one it seems," said Calista. "Oh how sorry I am!" +she exclaimed, as she read. + +"What now?" asked Miss Druett. + +"Mr. Settson and the girls are not coming home for several weeks," +replied Calista. "Mary says,— + + "'Papa has heard of something very important, which will take him to +Boston, so he will be away for some weeks longer. He says you must keep +my place in the drawing-class till I come.'" + +"Drawing, indeed!" said Miss Priscilla. "Spinning would be more to the +purpose. You shall stay at home and learn to spin." + +"Remember the child belongs to me, Priscilla; that was part of the +bargain." + +"Well, well, have her; I don't care. I must go to town this afternoon, +Druey, and I want you to go with me." + +"Very well," said Miss Druett. "I have an errand of my own. Calista, +stay within bounds, and don't go running over the woods. We shall +have you bitten by one of the gray snakes, or killed by a wild pig or +something." + +"I don't in the least believe in the gray snakes," said Calista. "I +have never seen one yet, as often as I have been in the Red Hollow. But +I shall not go out of the house, for I have a bit of work to finish for +the fair." + +"Oh, it is to-morrow, is it? Whom do you mean to stay with?—For I +suppose you must stop all night with some one." + +"Emma Ross asked me to stay with her. Clary Whitman and Belle Adair are +going to be there, so we shall have a fine time. Elizabeth Howell won't +come, because she says she has not a clear evidence that it is right. +The girls laugh at her, but I don't see anything to laugh at. It seems +to me if you are not sure that a thing is right, it makes that thing +wrong for you." + +"She is quite correct. Keep that rule in mind, and you will save +yourself a deal of trouble." + +When her aunt and Miss Druett were gone, Calista established herself in +the front room with the child's apron she was ornamenting in crewels. +Thanks to her mother's store of working materials, she was now able to +do something independently. + +The front parlor was kept in decent order, only by the exertions of +Miss Druett, and hither Calista resorted with her work, pulling down +the inside venetian blinds, so that she could see without being seen. +She had not sat long before she saw old Jael come to the kitchen door +and speak to Chloe. By leaning a little out of the window she could +hear the whole conversation. + +"Where's your mistress?" + +"What's that to you?" + +"Come, old woman, keep a civil tongue, will you? Is Miss Stanfield at +home?" + +"She's gone to town, if you must know." + +"Has she found her purse?" + +"She hasn't lost it. I saw it in her hands just as she went away." + +"But, I tell you, she did lose it," said the old woman, in a voice +which betrayed some agitation. "She lost it last night, I know." + +"Oh, you do, do you?" thought Calista. "I thought so." + +"Well, if I was a fortune-teller, I'd tell straighter than that," said +Chloe, in a tone of great contempt. "Don't I know Miss Priscy? I tell +you if she had lost her purse last night, not one in this house would +have a wink of sleep till it was found. Besides, I saw it in her hands +not an hour ago—the very long green purse she always carries; so you +needn't talk to me." + +"Well, well, I dare say you are right, only I thought I heard something +about it. Get me a drink of cider, Chloe, there's a good soul. You'll +be old yourself some day." + +"I ain't far from it now," mid Chloe, relenting a little, as it seemed +by her tone. "Then sit down in the shade, and I'll give you some cider, +and your pail full of skim milk if you want it." + +Calista heard the kitchen door shut and bolted, while Chloe departed on +her errand. + +But Jael did not sit down in the shade. She hurried across the road +with wonderful swiftness, and disappeared for a moment behind General +Stanfield's monument. When she appeared again, her face was a curious +mixture of anger, confusion, and fear. She got back just in time to +meet Chloe as she unbarred the door. + +"What took you across the road in such a hurry?" asked Chloe. "I saw +you from the buttery window." + +"I thought I saw a lame quail," said the old woman. + +"Smart you must be, to be taken in by a lame quail! There, there's a +fine pail of milk and some cold potatoes for you. Why don't you and +your husband settle down like decent folks, and have good times?" + +"Oh, we have our good times now and then as well as you," chuckled the +old woman. "Thank you all the same. Good-bye." + +"She ain't a witch, that's certain," muttered Chloe to herself, as she +watched Jael out of sight. "Maybe she is something as bad or worse; +anyhow, a pail of milk won't hurt her." + +Calista laughed behind the blinds to think how she had circumvented the +old woman. But she did not know all the plans in that wicked old head, +by a great deal. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. + +THE FAIR. + +THE fair was a great success, though a good deal of the pleasure was +marred to Calista by the absence of several of her friends. Miss +McPherson had been called to New York to see Miss Jessy off for +Scotland, whither she had gone to attend to a small inheritance which +had fallen to her. Miss Meeks was with her sister, who was sinking in +a rapid decline. Mary Settson was going about with her father, now and +then writing a long letter to Calista—now and then, but not very often, +for postage was a consideration in those days, when every single letter +cost eighteen cents and a double one a great deal more. + +The law was a very whimsical one. You might use one sheet the size +of a barn door, if you could get one; but if you put in a second bit +of paper, though no larger than a visiting card, you must pay double +postage. Under such circumstances, a letter was a grave consideration. + +In Miss Jessy's absence, Clary Whitman took charge of the school table, +assisted by Calista and Belle Adair, who had come back to Cohansey for +the purpose. Everything went off beautifully. Calista had hardly ever +been out in an evening before, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. For once +in her life she had the pleasure of appearing in a handsome new frock—a +sprigged India muslin, which she had found among her mother's things. + +For the satisfaction of my young lady readers, I will just mention that +it was made with a short waist, of the style then called Grecian, very +large gigot sleeves with stiffeners, a lace cape with ruffles, crossed +and fastened behind, and a broad blue silk belt, fastened with a gilt +buckle. + +Every one noticed how very handsome she looked, and what ladylike, +modest manners she had, and every one wondered how she came to be there +at all. Almost all the articles on the table were sold and brought good +prices. Old Mr. Fabian himself bought Mary Burns's rug to put under his +office table, and his wife even bought Charity Latch's work-bag, saying +to herself that it would do to hold clothes-pins, and it was a pity the +poor thing should be mortified when she had done her best. + +Clarissa Whitman, Belle Adair, and Calista spent the night with Emma +Ross. Bell and Calista, slept together, and as they were going to bed, +Calista said, in the most natural way in the world: + +"Oh, Emma, will you lend me a Testament?" + +"I've got one for you," said Belle. "It is in my trunk. I thought +a pocket Testament would be convenient if you were teaching a +Sunday-class, so I brought you one." + +"Oh, thank you," said Calista, gratefully. "I have wanted one ever so +much. How very pretty!" + +"Do you suppose Miss Stanfield will let you keep it?" asked Emma. "I +heard that she would not allow one in the house, and when she and Miss +Druett found an old one somewhere, they trampled it all to pieces and +then burned it up." + +"Nonsense!" said Calista, laughing. "My poor aunt is not quite so bad +as that. Miss Druett and I each have one, and we read together every +day. But I suppose people tell all sorts of things about our family." + +"Indeed they do. Such stories—" Emma began, but Belle interrupted her— + +"Don't tell her, Emma. What is the use of repeating such things? I am +of my stepmother's opinion about that. Some one came to her with a +story of what Mrs. So-and-so had said. Mamma checked her at once, in +that tremendously dignified way she has when she chooses. + +"'Please don't tell me if it is anything unpleasant,' said she. 'If it +is anything agreeable, I shall be glad to hear it.'" + +"Well, I dare say you are right," said Emma, smiling, but blushing a +little; "so I will tell Calista that Mr. Alger said she was one of the +greatest helps he had in his work at the mills. He told pa so." + +"What a sweet temper Emma has!" said Belle. "She is a little too fond +of gossip though." + +"She hears a good deal of it, I presume," said Calista. "Perhaps no one +is quite as careful as they should be, unless it is Elizabeth Howell." + +"Or yourself." + +"Well, I am not under any very great temptations. Miss Druett does not +talk about people at all, and Aunt Priscilla calls them all fools." + +"I should not think your religion and your aunt would agree very well," +Belle ventured to say. + +"Oh, well—she snaps sometimes, but either she is not so sharp as she +used to be, or I don't mind it so much. I really get on quite nicely. +But, please, don't talk for a little, Belle. I want to read my chapter +and say my prayers." + +"I will be as mute as a fish at Quaker meeting," said Belle. "But don't +keep all the good to yourself. Read your chapter aloud." + +Calista did so, and Belle listened with evident interest; and when +Calista knelt down, she sat quite still till she had finished. + +"I'll tell you what, Calista, you are a comfortable sort of Christian +to be with," said Belle, when they were both in bed and the light was +out. "You don't put on a long face, and look all the time as if you +were afraid something dreadful was going to be done or said, like—" + +"Hush, now! I won't have you censorious," said Calista. + +"Well, I won't say it, then; but you know who I mean, all the same." + +"You two would be the best friends in the world if you would only come +to understand one another," said Calista. + +"How are you to come to an understanding with a person who always +takes it for granted that you mean to say and do the very worst thing +possible?" demanded Belle, with some heat. + +"Oh, come; you judge too hardly. M—, that person is naturally inclined +to low spirits and brooding. It is very different with me." + +"Yes, I know that. But if she is a Christian, why doesn't she try to +overcome such a disposition as that?" + +"She does try. And anyhow, Belle, it is better to be a faulty +Christian, who knows her faults and tries to conquer them, than not to +be a Christian at all." + +"Well, I don't know; I don't think I would try unless I could be a +perfect Christian—consistent in all things." + +"If your rule had been followed out, we should never have had any +Christian Church at all," said Calista. "There was not one of the +Apostles that we know anything about but had some fault." + +"Oh, Calista!—St. John!" + +"Well, he was for calling down fire on his enemies; and St. Peter +certainly had his faults, and so had St. Paul. I don't think that +excuse will stand for much at the last day. Come, Belle, do think it +over again, and without delay. Your time may be very short, you know. +Think of poor little Lawrence!" + +"Well, I will; I promise you I will. Now we must go to sleep, or we +shall never be ready to get up." + +Calista was, as Belle said, "a comfortable Christian," both to herself +and others. As some one said about Christiana, in the "Pilgrim's +Progress,"—"she never was in Doubting Castle at all." + +Probably her vigorous health had something to do with the matter, +though I think a great deal more is made of this excuse—"the state of +my health"—than is desirable or justifiable. I have known a man impute +all his dryness and lack of interest in religious matters to the state +of his health, when that same state of health did not hinder him from +taking the liveliest interest in the price of stocks or the report of +the last ball-game. I have seen a lady sit down contentedly with the +same excuse, who was as much occupied with her new dress as though +the fate of the Christian Church depended on the decision between a +princesse and a polonaise. Besides, what is that religious experience +worth which deserts and leaves us in the dark when we need it most? +This by the way. + +But Calista saved herself a great deal of trouble by the simplicity +with which she accepted the gospel. She did not ask herself whether +her repentance was deep enough, or her joy high enough, or her motives +pure enough. The Saviour said "Come," and she came. He had said, "Be +ye holy, for I am holy," and she would try her best to be so to please +him, trusting to his promise to help her, and his love to forgive and +wash away her offences when she failed. + +To be sure, Aunt Priscilla was trying, and even Miss Druett was +sometimes sharp and sarcastic, though she had softened much of late. +Her future was uncertain, and she was much troubled at the increasing +influence of old Jael; but the Lord had expressly said,— + + "'In the world ye shall have tribulation,'" + +and he had also said,— + + "'Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world'" (John 16:33). + +Her greatest trouble had arisen from the return of her angry and +revengeful feelings about her aunt. This distressed her so much that +one night she opened her trouble to her pastor. Mr. Alger listened, and +gave her sound and useful advice. + +"That is nothing strange," said he. "It is what every one has more +or less experience of. Satan is not going to give up any part of his +kingdom without a struggle, and there is always a traitor within to +help him. What you must do is this, hold no parley with the enemy, no, +not for an instant. Every minute of delay makes the work of resistance +tenfold harder. Lift your heart at once to the source of all strength. +Pray for your enemy as well as for yourself, and then resolutely turn +your thoughts from the subject, think of something else, and leave your +champion to fight the battle for you. + + "'Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord.' + +"And I'll tell you what, my dear child, Christians would save +themselves a great deal of trouble if they would learn this one +lesson,—to control their thoughts, and make them work, so to speak, +in harness. I can understand, from the little I know of your family +affairs, that your position is a very trying one, but do not give way +to fretfulness or despair. Wait on the Lord and be doing good, and fret +not thyself in any wise. And, by the by, study well that thirty-seventh +Psalm, and you will come to feel as if it were made for you." + +Calista obeyed, and found the wisdom of the good minister's advice. She +was studying very hard this vacation, with Miss Druett's assistance, +who fully approved her plan of qualifying herself for a teacher. She +also learned to spin, to please Miss Priscilla, who actually gave her +a shilling as a reward when Calista brought her her first skein of +smooth fine thread to show what progress she had made. She took great +pains with her class of little girls, very few of whom could read, and +was gratified with their improvement. She tried hard to read Mitford's +"Greece," and persevered through a volume and a half, when she gave it +up, and took to "Plutarch's Lives" instead. + +Zeke and his wife seemed for the present to have disappeared from the +neighborhood. Miss Priscilla was more quiet and reasonable than usual, +and, on the whole, it was the most comfortable vacation Calista had +known. + + +But a very great sorrow was about to fall on Calista,—the greatest +sorrow she had ever known since the death of her mother. + +Miss Druett had been troubled with a cough for two or three years, +which cough had grown worse since her apparently slight attack of +illness in the summer. Still Calista, in her ignorance, did not think +of her being ill. True, she was somewhat thin and languid, but this +Calista attributed to the great heat of the weather. Surely she could +not be ill when her eyes were so wonderfully bright and she had such a +beautiful color in her cheeks. + +At last, however, even Calista's eyes were opened. Miss Druett one +Sunday evening fainted in church, and, though she revived so as to +walk slowly home with the assistance Chloe and Calista, she never went +again. The next day she sent for the doctor and Mr. Fabian. + +Dr. Elsmore soon finished his examination, and on Miss Druett's +demanding to know the truth, he told her that, though she might linger +a few days or weeks, there was no recovery possible, and the end might +come at any time. + +"God's will be done," said Miss Druett. "I should not have a regret but +for the child; but she is in his hands, and will be cared for." + +Mr. Fabian came, and with him she had quite a long private +conversation. Then she seemed to have given up the world altogether, +and lay patient and smiling, waiting till the change should come. + +Calista, at last awakened to her friend's true condition, staid by +her night and day, hardly leaving the room except for her meals and a +run in the fresh air now and then, when Miss Druett insisted upon it. +She could not think; she dared not give way to grief. Her whole being +seemed to be given up to the work of caring for her friend, and making +her last days more comfortable. + +Mr. Alger and Mr. Lee came to see her; the former almost daily, and +she seemed to enjoy their visits and their prayers, but she was unable +to talk much at a time. Calista spent hours in reading the Bible and +singing old familiar hymns, to the great but secret annoyance of Miss +Priscilla. Miss Priscilla did not, could not, and would not believe +that, "Druey" was going to die. It was all nonsense; she was a little +unwell, and gave way instead of exerting herself and riding out. She +was always thinking about herself and her bad feelings, just as though +she, Miss Priscilla, was not a great deal worse. Then, veering round +all at once, she declared it was all the fault of old Alger and his +Methodistical cant putting gloomy ideas into Druey's head. It was +coming home from those meetings in the dew which had brought on her +cough; but she would get over it—yes, she would get over it in a few +days. Oh, yes, if she wanted wine, she must have it, no doubt. Doctors +were always making all the expense they could. + +"You can go down and get a bottle of that old Madeira," she said to +Chloe; "get anything she fancies or the doctor orders. But it is a +great shame; I shall die in the poor-house—I know I shall." + +"Well, what hurt will that do you?" asked Chloe, who spoke her mind on +all occasions. "The next minute after you are dead, it won't make any +odds to you whether you died in a poor-house or a palace." + +Miss Priscilla seized her favorite volume of Rousseau's "Confessions," +made as if to throw it at the bold speaker, but thought better of it, +and contented herself with a threatening look, as usual. + +"I really will discharge that woman; she grows more impudent every +day," she said to herself as Chloe left the room; but she had said so +at least once a month for the last twenty years, and still Chloe staid +on. + +Miss Druett died peacefully at last, not without warning enough to send +for Mr. Alger and Mr. Fabian. + +Miss Priscilla refused to believe it at first, then grew angry, then +fell to crying, and finally into a fit, which seemed for a time likely +to end her life with that of her friend. She really was very ill for +several days, and Chloe had her hands full with her. + +Meantime old Sally did the work and attended to Calista, who needed +such attendance. The strain being taken off, she realized how severe +it had been by the fatigue she felt, and for several days after the +funeral, she could hardly sit up or occupy herself in anything. She +could think of nothing but her departed friend, and, as usually happens +in such cases, she was somewhat morbid. She went over and over with +all their past intercourse, and while she remembered a hundred acts of +kindness and self-sacrifice unmarked at the time, she remembered, too, +with acute remorse, many faults on her own side—pert replies, teasing +and fretfulness over her lessons. + +"Oh, if she would only come back just for a minute! If I could only see +her just once more!" is the cry of the bereaved; "but I never can—never +in all this world." + +Happy they who can take refuge in the thought,— + + "But we shall meet again where there is no more parting;—" + +And a thousand thousand times more to be pitied than the most desolate +Christian on earth is he to whom death ends all—he who with his dead +buries his hope. + +It was well for Calista that time brought with it the need for +exertion. On the fourth day after the funeral Mr. Fabian called, and +Calista was sent for down to the parlor. It seemed to her that she +could hardly drag herself down the stairs, or attend to anything when +she got there; but she made the effort, and was rewarded by feeling +better and brighter for the exercise. + +Mr. Fabian was very kind and sympathetic, and nearly set Calista's +tears flowing again; but she made a great effort to check them, and to +give her whole mind to the matter before her. + +"I do not know, Miss Calista, whether you are aware that your late +friend, Miss Druett, made a will." + +"No, sir," said Calista, as Mr. Fabian seemed to expect a reply. + +"Did she ever tell you anything about her business matters?" + +"Yes, once. She told me she had a house in Philadelphia, and that she +had received some money from England, from her father I think she +said; but she did not tell me how much, only that she had enough for +her old age. Latterly she has bought my clothes and given me a little +pocket-money now and then." + +"Exactly. I see you know how to make a clear statement. The house in +Philadelphia to which you allude was hers only for life. But she has +about three thousand dollars invested in good securities, and this +property will be yours when you are twenty-one. Try to control your +feelings, my dear Miss Stanfield," as Calista's eyes filled. "It is of +importance that you should understand these matters. There is also the +further sum of seven hundred and twenty dollars and seventy cents," +continued Mr. Fabian, taking out his memorandum-book and opening his +glasses; "this also belongs to you, with the exception of a legacy +of fifty dollars to Mr. Alger, and twenty dollars each to Chloe and +David. Her books, pictures, papers, and a few ornaments, are yours; her +clothes of every description she leaves to Miss Stanfield." + +"I am glad she remembered Mr. Alger," said Calista; "he has been so +kind, and so have the servants. I should like to give a little present +to Cassius and Sally, Mr. Fabian. They have always been so good to me, +and I don't know what we should have done without them since aunt has +been sick." + +"It shall be attended to," said Mr. Fabian. "I am glad you spoke of it. +But now, Calista, we must decide what is to become of you. Where would +you like to live? At Miss McPherson's, supposing she has room for you?" + +"I should like that best of anything, I think, though Mr. Settson has +sometimes spoken of my staying with his daughters. Still, on some +accounts I should like the school best." + +"Perhaps we may let the matter rest till Mr. Settson returns before +coming to any final decision. But what will you do in the mean time?" + +"I must stay here, at least till aunt is better," said Calista. "I +cannot go away and leave her sick in bed." + +"Cannot Chloe attend to her?" + +"Hardly, so long as she has all the work of the house to do beside. I +do not think, however, that I could go on living with Aunt Priscilla +alone when she is about again. I must confess I am afraid of her in her +bad moods. And there is another reason why I should not like to stay +here alone with her, though I hardly know whether I ought to mention +it," said Calista, hesitating. + +"I think you had better tell me all," said Mr. Fabian. "It shall go no +farther, I promise you. What is the reason?" + +"It is that Aunt Priscilla is so under the influence of that woman +Jael, the old treasure-seeker's wife," said Calista, lowering her +voice. "I don't know whether you know anything of her." + +"Yes, indeed! But, Calista, is that possible? Why do you think so?" + +Calista briefly gave her reasons: "Miss Druett was very much disturbed +when she heard these people had appeared again, and said that Aunt +Priscilla had had dealings with them before." + +"Do you think your aunt can be in her right mind?" + +"I don't know. She is very sharp and acute about her business, and +looks after everything about the farm. She flies into fearful rages +sometimes, but other people do that." + +"Very true. But to traffic with those wretches—really Settson ought to +attend to it." + +"I don't suppose he knows it. I have never spoken of it before. Miss +Druett told me aunt was fond of speculation, and had wasted a great +deal upon lottery tickets." + +"She has made some very successful speculations, too," said Mr. Fabian, +rising. "Well, my dear, I have no more business with you this morning. +When your aunt is well enough, I must explain matters to her. Now, is +there anything I can do for you? Would you not like to put on mourning +for your old friend?" + +"Yes, indeed I should, Mr. Fabian!" answered Calista, her eyes filling +with tears. "I have thought a good deal about it, but could not see my +way, for I have no black dresses, and no money." + +"Mrs. Fabian suggested the subject to me, and bade me say that if +you would send her a pattern-dress, she would take the whole matter +off your hands, and see you properly provided. Mrs. Fabian is very +thoughtful and considerate," concluded the old gentleman, with a little +bow, as if his wife were present. "I hope and trust you will find her a +valuable friend." + +"I have no doubt I shall, if she will be so kind as to befriend +me," said Calista, feeling very grateful to Mrs. Fabian for her +consideration in the present instance. "I will get you the dress, if +you will wait a moment." + +Calista folded up her new sprigged muslin in a small, neat parcel, not +without a sigh to the memory of the last time she wore it. + +And Mr. Fabian departed, leaving Calista much relieved. She was not +left dependent on the grudging bounty of Miss Priscilla, neither +would she lose the opportunity of completing her education with Miss +McPherson. She was sensible enough to consider that three thousand +dollars was not a fortune, and she did not at all relax in her +determination to qualify herself for a teacher; but it was pleasant to +know she had something of her own. + +It was with a curious feeling that all must be a dream that she sought +out her mother's purse and put into it the five dollars Mr. Fabian had +given her in parting. + +Then she kneeled down and asked earnestly for grace to serve her Master +in the new state of life to which he seemed pleased to call her. And +then, rested and comforted, she went into her aunt's room. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. + +MR. FABIAN CALLS AGAIN. + +MRS. FABIAN was true to her word, and by her exertions, ably seconded +by those of Drusella Pine, a very handsome and proper suit of mourning +was sent home to Calista on Saturday night, accompanied by a kind +little note from Mrs. Fabian, and a present of a black feather fan. +Calista was pleased with the present and still more with the note, and +she would not have been a girl of sixteen if she had not felt a slight +movement of gratified vanity as she looked at herself in the glass and +saw how very neat and becoming was the fresh bombazine and crape, and +the black cottage bonnet with its plain white border inside. + +"Well, you do look like a real lady, Miss Calista," said Chloe, who +had assisted at the trying on; "and it does me good to see you wearing +decent clothes, as a young lady ought. Did Mrs. Fabian send you any +everyday things?" + +"Yes, a nice black calico; and she says she will have a black stuff +made for me. Isn't she kind?" + +"Law, yes! The Fabians are real quality, and know what's what. None of +your new-come-up folks they ain't. I heard say something about your +going to boarding-school; is that so?" + +"Yes; Miss Druett wished it, and Mr. Fabian thinks it best." + +"Well, I am glad of it, though what this house will be like without +Miss Druett and you, I can't say. But this I will say, it is not the +place for you. Miss Priscilla is bewitched by that old Jael, and +there's no telling what will come of it. Besides, you ought to be with +some one who knows how young ladies ought to behave, and who will take +an interest in your education. It's my belief if it hadn't been for +Miss Druett, you wouldn't even have learned to read and write." + +"I am of the same mind, Chloe. Looking back, I can see how she has +befriended me all my life. I don't think I ever thought half enough of +her when I had her." + +"That's the way we all feel, honey," said Chloe. "It's just so with me. +I know I was aggravating lots of times when I needn't have been. Wasn't +it a blessed thing that she died such a happy death, and that Mr. Alger +could say, as he did, that she died a Christian?" + +"Yes, indeed." + +"But, honey, I expect you'll have a regular fuss with Miss Priscilla +about the will when she comes to know it. She said she meant to see +Mr. Fabian, and get the money, just as soon as she was able. I don't +think she has a notion of the way things are left, because she said to +me that she would put out the money to much better advantage than Miss +Druett. I didn't say a word, for I thought, least said soonest mended. +I suppose you'll put on your new clothes to-morrow." + +"Yes, if I go to church." + +"There's another thing you'll have a fuss about, I expect," said Chloe, +as she assisted Calista in folding and laying away her new dress and +mantle. "I mean your wearing mourning. Miss Priscy hates to see any one +in black. She says it is such a waste; but I think it is because she +don't like to be reminded of her latter end." + +"Then if it annoys her, I won't wear it in the house while I stay here. +Shall I unpin the veil from the bonnet?" + +"Oh yes, and lay it smooth in the same folds. A crape veil will last +a long time if one is careful of it. And do the same by your shawl. +Some ladies' things always look as if they had been kept under the bed, +because they don't take care of them when they take them off. Now what +would you like for your supper, honey?" + +"Just what you have. I would as soon have bread and milk as anything, +only I should like some tea." + +"I hope it ain't wicked," muttered Chloe, as she descended the stairs, +"but if Miss Priscy was obliged to stay in bed the rest of her life, +I'd willingly take all the trouble of waiting on her for the sake of +the comfort there would be down stairs." + + +It rained hard on Sunday morning, but cleared up at noon; and at three +o'clock Calista thought she might venture to go to her Sunday-school. +She asked Chloe's advice. + +"Oh yes, go, honey; it will do you all the good in the world. I'll take +care of Miss Priscy, never fear." + +Calista dressed herself in her new mourning and went out. As she was +passing her aunt's door, she heard a peremptory voice call,— + +"Is that you, Calista?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Do you want anything? Shall I send Chloe?" + +"No. Come here, I want to speak to you." + +Now Calista had worn her black print dress all the morning, and +Miss Priscilla had made no remark. Calista took this as a tacit +acquiescence, and was rejoicing that the matter had settled itself +so easily. But she was mistaken in her reckoning. The fact was, Miss +Priscilla had not noticed the dress at all. + +"Where are you going?" was the first question. And then, with an +ominous flash of the eyes, "What is that you have on?" + +"My new mourning, aunt. Mrs. Fabian got it for me and sent it home last +night." + +"Oh, she did? She is very obliging, I am sure," said Miss Priscilla, in +her bitterest sarcastic tone. "Pray did she pay for them?" + +"No, aunt," answered Calista, with an inward prayer for grace, for she +saw that a conflict was impending. "Mr. Fabian paid for them out of +Miss Druett's money that she left me." + +"That she left you!" Miss Priscilla repeated slowly, as though she +could hardly believe her ears. "What do you mean?" + +"Mr. Fabian will tell you all about it, aunt," said Calista, retreating +a little. "He is Miss Druett's executor, and has the management of all +her affairs. I would rather not talk about it to-day." + +"Do you mean to say that Druey has gone and left the money she had from +England to 'you?'" asked Miss Priscilla, sitting up in bed. + +"Please wait till to-morrow, aunt," said Calista, determined not to +have a dispute on Sunday. "Mr. Fabian will tell you all about it." And +she left the room, followed by a string of vituperation which she did +not stop to listen to. + + +She met her class and had a pleasant time with them. The little girls +were full of sympathy, every one was kind to her, and she came home +feeling refreshed and comforted. + +Chloe met her at the door. + +"Don't go near your aunt," said she. "She is in one of her tantrums. +I've set your supper out in the sitting-room, and when you've eaten +it, if you don't go to meeting again, you had better sit in the +front parlor. There's some nice books in there that used to be your +grandma's, and I'll bring you in a light by and by." + +"I don't think I will go to meeting, Chloe. I feel rather tired with my +walk. It is strange I should mind such a thing when I have walked to +town all my life." + +"You're worn out, honey; that is just what it is," said Chloe. "You +ain't made of cast iron more than any one else. Eat your supper, and +take care of your new frock. Milk spots black worse than anything." + +Calista took the advice given her, and then retreated to the front +parlor. She had never examined the little cupboards by the chimney. +Indeed, they had usually been kept locked, but now they were open, +and Calista eagerly looked over their contents. There were a few very +early specimens of the Annuals—a species of literature which seems to +have wholly died out; but the books mostly consisted of sets of the +"Spectator" and "Rambler," and religious books of which there were +a good many and of high character—Thomas à Kempis, Taylor's "Holy +Living," "The Whole Duty of Man," Law's "Serious Call," and the like. +Calista took down the last, and was soon fascinated, as any person of +taste must be, by the exquisite style, the wit, and solid excellence of +the matter. + +She read till it was too dark to see, and then sat watching the +fireflies, which spangled everything, and the moon, which just touched +the higher clouds with silver. She tried to keep her thoughts on other +things, but the questions would rise, "What was she to do? Was it +her duty to stay on where she was? Could she possibly live with Aunt +Priscilla?" + +"But I am borrowing trouble," she said to herself at last. "My aunt +gave up all care of me to Miss Druett, and she said Mr. Fabian was my +guardian and would decide for me, so, of course, he will settle all +that. I wouldn't be him when he calls to-morrow. I don't think aunt +need grudge me my little fortune. Surely she has enough. I heard Mr. +Fabian and that other gentleman say that the estate had increased in +value tenfold. But I will not think of business to-night—so there!" + +And drawing nearer to her the candle Chloe had brought, she applied +herself once more to the "Serious Call." She read on, more and more +interested, till a sudden rustle caused her to turn round. Some one +was at the window, that was certain; some one who disappeared in a +moment. She went to the window and looked out. There was nothing to be +seen, but as she drew together and barred the shutters, she heard a low +hollow laugh or chuckle, which she knew too well. + +"So that horrid woman has come back," she said to herself. "Mr. Fabian +is right. It will never do for me to stay here." + +She could not feel very comfortable alone in the great room with its +heavy, faded damask hanging, where her one candle made such grim +shadows of the old-fashioned furniture. She took her book and candle, +and, slipping off her shoes, she crept softly up to her own room and +fastened the door, which had no bolt inside, by putting one of her +trunks against it. She sat reading a long time, till all was quiet in +the house. Then she said her prayers, and going to bed, she fell asleep +like a baby. + + +The next morning, to her utter amazement, she went down stairs to find +her aunt dressed, and sitting waiting for her breakfast. Such a thing +had not happened for years. + +"Why, Aunt Priscilla, how smart you are getting!" she exclaimed +pleasantly. "When have you been down to breakfast before?" + +"Oh, I am not quite superannuated yet, though you and your Fabians +would like to make me so. Yes, you and your Fabians, with your plots +and plans," she added, shaking her head. "You will find out, Miss, you +poor-house child that I took out of charity that you might turn me out +of house and home. Yes, yes! I meant to make you rich at last, but +you'll see what you have gained by your plots and plans. You'll see!" + +"Indeed, aunt, I have done nothing to injure you," said Calista, +gently. "I don't ask anything of you but kind treatment and a little +love. Come, aunt, let us be friends for the sake of her that is gone." + +Calista's voice trembled, and she drew near to her aunt and bent down +as if to kiss her, but Miss Priscilla pushed her off. + +"There, go away. If you must make a sentimental fuss, go and see about +breakfast; we shall not have it over by the time that old fool gets +here." + +Breakfast, however, was over and out of the way before the person so +politely designated arrived. + +Calista was not called to the conference till just at its close. As she +entered the room, she heard Miss Priscilla say, in the loftily polite +manner which she could assume if she chose: + +"I am sorry to have been the cause of your forgetting yourself and +being so violent, Mr. Fabian. I had always supposed you to be a person +of quite a different stamp. I see now how wise my father was in +refusing to sanction your addresses." + +"And I see what an idiotic young fool I was ever to have made them," +muttered Mr. Fabian, evidently much discomfited. "Be that as it may, +madam," he continued, aloud, "I assure you that the will of your late +friend is perfectly legal in every respect, and if you dispute it, you +will lose your money." + +"That remains to be seen, sir. Meantime, my niece remains in my +custody. I have brought her up and educated her, and I intend that she +shall stay with me till she is of age, and be governed by me in all +things." + +Calista cast a glance of consternation at her friend. + +"Do not be alarmed, my dear," said Mr. Fabian. "You shall remain with +this—this 'person' no longer than till I can obtain the proper legal +power to take possession of you." + +Mr. Fabian pronounced the word "person" with a look and emphasis which +gave it all the effect of the most vituperative epithet. "Mr. Settson +is expected home to-day, and then we will arrange the whole matter. Do +not be afraid; no one shall hurt you." + +"No harm is likely to come to her under this roof, whatever might +happen anywhere else," said Miss Priscilla. "I have allowed the young +person much more liberty than was for her good, to gratify the whims of +my late companion and housekeeper, Miss Druett—" + +"Oh! So she was your housekeeper!" said Mr. Fabian, taking out his +tablets and making a note of the words. "You will please remember these +words, Calista. They may be important." + +"Of my late companion and friend, as I supposed her," continued Miss +Priscilla, without noticing the interruption. "She has been going about +to Methodist meetings and other places unfit for any decent young +person. I shall permit this no longer; but as to any ill-treatment, +I hope my character and that of my family are a guarantee against +anything of that kind. I will not detain you any longer. Good-morning!" + +Mr. Fabian bowed, and whispered to Calista to keep up good courage. + +Miss Priscilla accompanied him to the door with the greatest politeness. + +Calista, meantime, fled to her own room and fastened the door as well +as she could. She had hardly done so when she heard it locked on the +outside. Then she heard her aunt's voice ordering David to get up the +chaise and be ready to drive her to Graywich. + +"I shall not be at home till to-morrow," she said to Chloe, in +unusually gracious accents; "so, if you choose, Chloe, you can go to +town and stay with your sister. Indeed, I prefer that you should do so. +I shall feel safer if the house is locked up." + +"But where is Miss Calista? She can't stay here alone," objected Chloe. +"And what about the cows?" + +"Miss Calista has gone to town with Mr. Fabian. Did you not see her in +the carriage? As to the cows, Davis will see to them." + +"Oh!" said Chloe. "Then I guess I'll go over to Sally's. Jubalina is +out, helping at Mrs. Whitecar's. And I'll take my new frock along and +get Drusella to cut it for me. Hadn't I better take the key to the +kitchen door, so's I can come and have things ready for you?" + +"No, I prefer to carry all the keys myself. Go and get ready, for I am +in a hurry." + +No more was said, and Calista began to reflect on her position with +some consternation. She did not at all relish the idea of being left +locked up in the great empty house without food all night, and besides +she had no notion of the lengths to which her aunt might go in her +madness, for as such Calista regarded her conduct. She might, however, +only mean to break her niece's spirit by hunger and solitude, and thus +gain her ends. + +"But she will find herself mistaken," thought Calista, proudly; "she +does not know with whom she has to do." + +The two servants slept in a room opening from the outer kitchen, and +Miss Priscilla watched Chloe so carefully as to prevent her going up +stairs at all. + +Calista in her prison heard all the doors locked one after another, +and the chaise roll away. She tried the door, but it was fast; her +room being in the highest part of the house, she could not think for +a moment of throwing herself out of the window. She tried the door +with all her strength, but it would not yield to her efforts. She was +sitting down to rest and compose her thoughts, when she heard a welcome +voice under the window call softly— + +"Honey, are you there?" + +Calista sprang to the window and put her head out. + +"Oh, Chloe, is it you? I thought every one had left me." + +"Didn't I tell you so?" said Chloe, addressing nobody in particular. "I +didn't believe you went away in that carriage. Have you got a string +you can let down?" + +Calista found a roll of tape in her work-box, and let it down. + +Chloe fastened a basket to it. + +"There's some dinner for you," said she. "I mistrusted all the time +you were here, and so Chloe put you up a nice basket. Now listen to +me. You will have to stay where you are till dusk. Nothing will hurt +you, and do you pack up all your trunks, and put all your best things +in one. Keep up a good heart, honey, and if you hear strange noises +and scratching round about dusk, don't you be scared. Cash has got a +plan for you in his head. There, good-bye; eat your dinner, keep a good +heart, and we'll show Miss Priscy that there is more than one way to +the woods, and out of them too." + +Calista felt the wisdom of this advice. She made a hearty dinner, and +then began to pack up her trunks, putting together in one all her most +valuable articles and those she was most likely to need, as Chloe had +advised. She had in her possession the new travelling bag she had +bought for Miss Druett, and in that she bestowed her dressing things +and other small matters. This being finished, she took a book and read +for a long time. + + +It was growing dusk, when, as Chloe had foreboded, she began to hear +a distant stir and rustling, and low, cautious voices. She listened +intently: something was certainly stirring in the large disused closet, +wherein were stowed the old clothes that her aunt had destined for +carpet-rags. She opened the door, and as she did so, another door, +which she had never suspected, opened in the wooden partition opposite, +and the dark, friendly faces of Cassius and Chloe appeared in the +opening. + +"Here she is, all safe and sound," said Cassius. "Now we must hurry, +for I mistrust the old lady may get back to-night, after all. Which +trunk do you need most, Missy? For we can't take but one." + +Calista indicated the one she wished to take. + +"All right," said Chloe. "Now, help me, Cash, and we'll put the others +where Miss Priscy won't find them in a month of Sundays." + +Calista waited with what patience she could till the trunks were +bestowed somewhere in the dark void on which the closet opened. + +"That's all right; now for this one. Come along, Missy, and mind your +steps. The garret is pretty dark. Shut your eyes a minute, and you'll +see better." + +Calista followed, wondering more and more. Chloe shut both closet-doors +behind them. They passed through the garret and down a short stairway +which seemed to wind round the chimney, then through another closet +similar to the one up stairs, and Calista found herself in a large +bed-room on the second floor, which she recognized as her father's old +room. + +"All right so far, but I'm glad that trunk wasn't any bigger," said +Cassius; "now it's all plain sailing. Shut all the doors behind us, +Chloe, and leave everything straight." + +They descended to the first floor. Cassius opened a side-door, and it +was with a feeling of exultation that Calista found herself in the open +air. + +"Is it possible she left a door unfastened?" said Calista. + +"Not she," returned Cassius. "Young master gave me a key to this door +years ago, and I kept it for a kind of keepsake. But let's get on the +road, and I'll tell you all about it." + +"Won't you take the river road?" asked Chloe. "It's more lonesomer." + +"Either road is lonesome enough at this time," answered Cassias; "and I +want to get Missy into safe keeping. Have you got anything to put round +you, Missy? It is sort of chilly." + +"Yes, I took down this old cloak, which was hanging in the closet," +said Calista. + +"That is my master's old military cloak, which he wore in war times," +said Cassius. "He had it on when he was took for death. Some time, +Missy, if you don't want it, I should like to have that cloak; but I +don't want it in my house just now." + +They were soon stowed in the Jersey wagon, which was tied before the +gate, and the stout little horse was going over the road at a fine +pace, as if he did not mind his load in the least. + +"And now, do tell me how you got in?" said Calista. "And what is the +story of that closet?" + +"Oh, it is all plain enough," answered Cassius. "You see Chloe +mistrusted all the time that you didn't go away with Mr. Fabian, +because she did not see you go out, and she told me so. So Sally says,— + +"'You'd better go and make sure, and take the poor thing something to +eat.' For Sally, she can't bear to think of any one's going hungry. + +"Says I, 'If she is there, I reckon we can get her out easy enough.' + +"You see young master and me, we used to go out night-fishing, and he +had a key to the little side-door, and he and I, we built that little +staircase round the chimney and through the closets, so I could come +down to his room any time. Your grandpa knew it, and thought it was +only a frolic. Whether Miss Priscy did or not I don't know. She was +away at the time we built it, I remember. When young Master Richard +went away, he gave me that key to the side-door, and told me to keep it +till he came back. So as nobody ever used the door, I took it away with +me when I went, for a kind of keepsake. But it took a sight of oil to +make it turn smooth, I can tell you. I little thought what good it was +going to do. But I kind of wish you hadn't taken the coat." + +"I don't think she'll miss it," said Calista. "She gave it to me with a +parcel of other old clothes to cut into carpet-rags, a long while ago, +and she has never asked for the things since. Anyhow, I can send it +back to her if she wants it." + +"Yes, we'll fix that easy enough," said Chloe. "Here we come." + +"I guess we'd better drive right to Mr. Fabian's, hadn't we?" asked +Cassius. + +"Oh, yes, yes, Cassius. How shall I ever pay you?" + +"Bless you, Missy, don't think about that. Who's got a right to help +you if I haven't, I should like to know?" + +The sound of wheels on the carriage-drive brought Mr. Fabian to the +door of his handsome, stately old house, and great was his amazement +when Cassius stopped his horse, and helped out first Calista and then +Chloe. + +"Calista, is this you? What does it mean?" + +"Oh, Mr. Fabian, won't you please take me in, and take care of me?" +said Calista, her voice quivering with the excitement she had been +repressing all day. + +"Of course I will, and very glad I am to see you," said the old +gentleman, grasping the hand held out. "Mrs. Fabian, will you come +here?" + +Mrs. Fabian appeared, stately and beautiful, in her black satin and +lace cap,—for old ladies were old ladies in those days. + +"Now, what is the story?" said Mr. Fabian. + +Cassius told it in a few words. + +"What an abominable shame!" said Mrs. Fabian. "The child might have +lost her senses, poor dear. I never heard of anything more cruel." + +The kind words, and the epithet which she had so often heard from her +lost friend, finished the break down which had been for some time +impending, and Calista burst into a fit of hysterical crying. + +"There, there, she is quite overdone," said Mrs. Fabian, folding +Calista in her motherly arms. "We will get her to bed, and Chloe and +Cassius shall have their supper and feed the horse. Perhaps, Chloe, as +your mistress is not coming back to-night, you had better stay. There +is plenty of room for you." + +Chloe had calculated on this invitation, and accepted it without +scruple. + +Cassius declined, with many low bows. He must get home and see to his +cows, and so on. + +Mr. Fabian followed him to the door and said something, of which only +the conclusion was audible: "Keep your own counsel, and if you get into +trouble, I'll stand by you." + +He pressed something into Cassius's hand, which glittered yellow in the +lamplight. + +Cassius bowed, and disappeared in the darkness, and his horse was heard +trotting away. + +Meantime, Calista had been conveyed up stairs to the most beautiful +bed-room she had ever seen, where she was speedily undressed and put to +bed. Presently appeared Chloe with an inviting tray, and when it was +plain that Calista was too tired to eat, she was tucked up, exhorted to +sleep as late as she pleased in the morning, and finally left to her +repose. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. + +MISS PRISCILLA. + +IT was just as well that Cassius did not take the river road, for had +he done so, he would have met Miss Priscilla at his own gate. + +Miss Priscilla had allowed herself to act in a passion, and, she had +not gone three miles from home before her mind misgave her. She had +almost a mind to make a pretence of having left something and turn +back. But she was not quite cool yet, and she did very much want to +see Mr. Anderson, the lawyer in Graywich, about "that infamous will of +Druey's"—so she called it in her own mind. + + +Mr. Anderson gave her no particular comfort. He was an honest man, and, +moreover, he had once had to collect a bill of Miss Priscilla, and he +had not forgotten (though she had) the way he had been treated on that +occasion. He strongly advised Miss Priscilla not to go to law about the +matter. + +"These few thousand dollars are nothing to you," he said. "If you go to +law, your servants and your niece will be very sharply examined, and +things may come to light which may be very unpleasant." + +Miss Priscilla winced. + +"There is another consideration," pursued the lawyer, as gently and +politely as if Miss Priscilla was a mouse and he the cat which was +playing with her. "I suppose there is no doubt that your father, +General Stanfield, made a second will, though it was never found. But +after what has passed, Settson and Fabian will leave no stone unturned +to discover it, and they are likely enough to succeed. Under such +circumstances, would it not be better to conciliate the regard of the +young lady,—who, from all I hear from my nieces, her schoolmates, is a +very amiable, engaging young person,—and make a friend of her?" + +"I tell you there was no second will—nothing of the sort," said Miss +Priscilla, in great agitation. "The whole property is mine—house and +all; and that money is rightfully mine." + +"There you are mistaken, as I think," said Mr. Anderson, politely. + +"Then you won't undertake the case?" said Miss Priscilla, in deep +disappointment. + +"Under the circumstances, I must be excused," said Mr. Anderson; "and +my parting advice to you is to let matters rest where they are, and +to endeavor to make a friend of the young lady. The time is short, +my dear madam—the time is short; and both you and myself are rapidly +approaching that station where no earthly riches are of any avail. I +should be happy to invite you to dinner, but my wife and daughter are +away, and I am taking my own meals at a neighbor's house. Good-morning!" + +And Miss Priscilla found herself bowed out of the office with great +politeness. She had counted on keeping herself, her horse, and her +servant at Mr. Anderson's expense; but now she must go to the tavern, +for the horse, at least, must have his dinner. + +There was now no object in her remaining all night, and the more she +thought of it, the more vexed she was with herself for the course she +had taken. How should she manage when she came home? The servants would +be certain to find out that Calista had been shut up in the empty house +all day, and, what was worse, they would be sure to tell of it, for +they were both on Calista's side. + +To do Miss Priscilla justice, she was not without better feelings. +She remembered that Calista had really seemed glad to see her down +stairs, and she thought, too, how she had rejected the child's offer of +friendship. + +"The child!" + +Yes, that was what Druey had always called her—Druey, who had stood by +her through evil report and unkindness, and to whom she had solemnly +given over the care of Calista. Suppose that when she got home she +should find Calista dead, or scared into insanity! Miss Priscilla was +as angry at herself as she had been at Calista. She thought matters +over, and decided, with a great pang, that she would give up the +contest, let the will be proved, and say no more about it. She had +counted on Miss Druett's ready money to carry on her schemes with Jael +and her husband, but then she could sell out some bank-stock. + +Then another cold misgiving crossed her mind. She had already let +these people have two or three hundred dollars. Suppose they should +be robbing and cheating her all the time! But she could not and would +not believe that. No, the treasure was there, and she would have it! +She would coax Calista to join with her: Calista was always lucky in +finding things! Yes, that would be the best plan. + +That Calista should refuse to be governed or coaxed, that she should +feel any lasting resentment for the way she had been treated, never +entered Miss Priscilla's head. + +Full of these thoughts, she stopped at Cassius's gate and called +for Chloe. Instead of Chloe, came out old Sally. Was ever anything +so unlucky! Cassius had been obliged to drive into town, and Chloe +had gone with him and expected to spend the night with Mrs. Fabian's +Miranda. Cassius would most likely stay to meeting, seeing he was +there, and so would not come home till late. + +This was worse and worse. Then Chloe would find out that Calista had +not gone away with Mr. Fabian. And what was she to do for supper? +David declared he could not and would not drive Jeff another step, and +the farm horses were away off down in the pasture. But then there was +Calista! No doubt the poor child was hungry enough by this time, and +for once she might get just what she liked for supper. + + +It was not without an uncomfortable feeling that Miss Priscy ascended +the stairs to the attic story, and, unlocking the door, called— + +"Calista!" + +Then, as no answer came, "Calista, child, take the things away from the +door and let me come in; I want to speak to you! Don't be afraid. I am +not angry, though you have been a naughty girl. Come, let me in!" + +Still no answer. Exerting her strength, Miss Priscilla pushed away +the heavy chair which Calista had left standing against the door, and +entered. + +The room was empty. Everything was in its usual state, except that +Calista's trunks were gone. + +Much alarmed, she searched the house over, but every door was locked +and every window fastened. Calista was nowhere to be seen. + + +Leaving her to her own reflections, we will follow the fortunes of our +heroine. + +Calista's sleep was broken and restless till near morning, but then she +fell asleep and did not wake till near ten o'clock. + +When she did wake, she lay for some time in a half-dreamy state, +enjoying the softness of her bed and the luxurious prettiness of +her room, so different from the one she had so long inhabited. She +found a real pleasure in the pretty carpet, the easy chair with its +bright chintz, the Indian paper on the walls covered with processions +of camels and elephants, with wonderful birds and beasts, and men +still more wonderful. Presently her eyes fell upon the old army cloak +carelessly thrown over a chair, and like a flash came to her mind the +words of Cassius— + +"He had it on when he was struck with death!" + +She sprang out of bed, seized the coat, and felt in all the pockets. +There was nothing in any of them, but as she turned them out, she found +in the inside breast pocket a long rip. She put in her hand and pulled +out a folded paper carefully wrapped round with red tape, but not +sealed. + +She gave one glance at it, and another out of the window. Mr. Settson's +house was open, and so was the office. Clearly the family were at home. + +She waited no longer than to dress herself, and then, without seeing +or thinking of any one, she put on her hat, and, with the paper in her +hand, ran across to the office. There was no one in the outer room. She +knocked at the door of the inner office, and then, without waiting for +a reply, she opened it and went in. + +There sat Mr. Settson and Mr. Fabian, with an elderly man whom she had +never seen before. + +"Calista!" exclaimed both the gentlemen in surprise. + +And Mr. Fabian's voice had a shade of displeasure as he added,— + +"My dear, what has brought you here?" + +"This!" answered Calista, holding up her prize. "Mr. Settson, will you +please tell me what I have found?" + +Mr. Settson set down his snuff-box, and glancing at the outside of the +document, he opened it with eager haste. He looked it through, glanced +at the end, and then struck his hand on the table with a force which +made the ink jump out of the inkstand and the snuff out of the box, and +caused the office cat to utter a remonstrating mew. + +"The very thing!" said he. "We have it at last. Fabian, Williams, look +here!" + +They both rose and looked over his shoulder with eager curiosity. + +"That is it, Mr. Settson," said the elderly man, whom Mr. Settson +called Williams; "that is the signature I witnessed, and the other +signature is that of young Mr. John Blair, at that time studying in +our office. I have heard he was living somewhere west—in Detroit, I +believe. That is Mr. Durant's handwriting. The old gentleman gave him +instructions how to draw the will, and he came in next day and signed +it. I heard it read over to him myself." + +"But what in the world possessed him to go to a lawyer who was an +entire stranger, and in an obscure place like that?" + +"I think it was because he was not very well. I remember he said +something about his heart troubling him." + +[Illustration: _Old Stanfield House._ + "This!" answered Calista, holding up her prize.] + +"Where did you find the will, Calista?" asked Mr. Settson. + +Calista described the way it had come into her possession. + +"Exactly. I see it all. He had put it in his pocket to bring to me as +he said, when he was taken with this fit. The will slipped through the +slit, and has staid there ever since. Well, my dear, you have made a +good morning's work. I must examine the document further, but from +what I see, I think we shall unseat Miss Priscilla from her high horse +without much trouble. Run in and see Mary, and I will tell you the +contents of the will when I know them myself." + +"Perhaps I had better go back," said Calista, blushing. "I came out +without seeing any one, and Mrs. Fabian will think it very strange." + +"Mrs. Fabian will understand that you did quite right when I explain +matters to her," said Mr. Fabian; "I will return with you, and come +back directly. Have you had your breakfast?" + +"No, sir." + +"Dear, dear! Mrs. Fabian will be quite shocked, and we shall have you +ill." + +But Mrs. Fabian was not shocked, nor was Calista ill. She ate her +breakfast with a good appetite, and then helped her hostess to rub the +skins off Siberian crab-apples, and then punch out the cores with a tin +tube, for, like most ladies of the time, Mrs. Fabian took pride and +pleasure in preparing quantities of sweetmeats. + +Oh, what a delight there was in the feeling of perfect quiet and +safety! How she enjoyed the shade of the back veranda, where they +sat at work, the sight and smell of the garden, the pretty, dainty +household work, the sight of Mrs. Fabian's neat French chintz and apron +of India grass-cloth, the soft, cultivated voice in which she told +Calista anecdotes of her travels abroad, interspersed with mild moral +reflections. There were people who considered Mrs. Fabian a thought +tedious, but Calista could have listened forever. + + +After dinner Mr. Settson came over, and Calista was informed of the +provisions of her grandfather's will. + +"The Philadelphia property, together with fifteen thousand dollars in +money, is left unconditionally to your aunt Priscilla. The Stanfield +place, with all the farms, &c., the Cohansey property, and twenty +thousand dollars, are left, first to your father, after him to your +mother for her life, or so long as she should remain unmarried, +and after her to the child or children of Richard Stanfield, share +and share alike; the guardianship of said children being given to +Mr. Fabian and myself as executors of the will. There are some +legacies,—one of a hundred dollars to old Cassius, and as much to the +church here, in memory of his last wife." + +"Then I get more than Aunt Priscilla!" said Calista. "That seems hardly +fair." + +"No, you get a good deal less. The Philadelphia property is worth much +more than the Stanfield estate, properly so called. Have you any of +your mother's papers?" + +"Yes, sir; I brought them all with me, for I thought they might be +needed." + +"Very discreet in you. Have you any objection to my looking them over?" + +"Not at all, sir. I will bring them down." + +Calista left the room and soon returned with two or three orderly +bundles of papers and her mother's Bible. + +"This book has the date of my mother's marriage and of my birth +set down in it," said she. "I don't know whether they are of any +consequence at all—" + +"Of all the consequence in the world," said Mr. Settson, untying the +bundles and carefully looking them over. "Certificate of marriage—very +good; bills, &c.—of no great account. Is there any one of these letters +by which you can fix the date of your father's death?" + +"Yes, sir—a letter from the captain of his company, telling all about +it. This is it." + +"Oh, so I see. Well, my dear, all things are uncertain in this world, +but so far as I can see now, there is no more doubt about your coming +in possession of the Stanfield place at twenty-one than there is that +the sun will rise to-morrow." + +"It will be a great responsibility for a girl like me," said Calista. + +"Very true; but we will hope you may have grace to use your fortune +wisely and rightly. Now as to another thing—I mean your place of +residence. I understand Miss Druett wished you to board at Miss +McPherson's; but I saw the good lady in New York, and she told me that +every room and bed in her house were engaged. Mrs. Fabian is anxious to +keep you with her, as she has no daughters living to bear her company. +Should you like that?" + +"Yes, sir, very much." + +"I should have liked to have you with us," continued Mr. Settson, "but +I find myself obliged to give a home to an aged aunt of my late wife's; +and to say truth, I think Mrs. Fabian, with her knowledge of the world +and society, a little better fitted to be the guide of such a—you +won't be offended if I say such a decided young lady as Miss Calista +Stanfield?—than my Alice." + +"Oh no, sir," said Calista, smiling and blushing. "And I am sure I am +quite contented here. I think Mrs. Fabian is lovely. Then you don't +think I shall have to go back to my aunt?" she added, rather anxiously. + +"No, indeed! Most decidedly not!" answered Mr. Settson, with emphasis. +"You must keep out of her way, and not go near the place at all." + +"But if it is her duty, papa," interposed Mary, who had been sitting +quite silently with her knitting. "Don't you think she ought to go if +there is any chance of doing Miss Priscilla any good? Who knows how she +might be the means of influencing her?" + +"I would go if it was thought right," said Calista; "but, oh, I should +dread it. I want to do my duty, I am sure," she added, anxiously. + +Mr. Settson took a pinch of snuff, and regarded his daughter with the +slightly sarcastic smile which she particularly dreaded. + +"It is the duty of such little girls as Calista and Mary to do as +they are bid by those who have the authority over them," said he. "It +is especially the duty of Calista, because there may be considerable +danger in her acting otherwise. So, if you please, we will consider +that matter settled. Is there anything else you would like to ask me +about?" + +"No, sir; only—please don't be hard on Aunt Priscilla. I am sure she +is not quite in her right mind, and I 'am' dreadfully afraid of her, +especially since what she did yesterday; but I could not injure her for +the world." + +"Don't be alarmed, my dear; Miss Priscilla shall have every chance. +Leave all that to me. I must take these papers away with me, but I will +take great care of them. Good-bye. I suppose you and Mary have a great +many hours of gossip to make up." + +And Mr. Settson departed, leaving the girls to themselves. + +Calista gave a little skip as she closed the door after him. + +"Oh, how glad I am!" said she. "I feel like a bird let out of a cage." + +"Well, I must say I rather wonder at you, Calista," said Mary, in a +somewhat disapproving voice. "I should think you would be sorry for +your poor aunt,— + + "'Deserted, at her utmost need + By those her former bounty fed.'" + +For Mary had been reading poetry, and liked to quote it. + +Calista's face flushed. "I wonder who did the deserting," said she. +"Miss Priscilla, who went away to stay all night and left me locked up +alone without food or light, or myself, who got out and came away? As +to her bounty, the less said the better." + +"But if you could do her good, I think you ought to sacrifice yourself +and not choose a life of luxury with a worldly, fashionable woman like +Mrs. Fabian. I must say I am disappointed in you." + +"And I am disappointed in you," said Calista, with some spirit. "I +thought you had more sense. Don't you see that I must obey your father +and Mr. Fabian, whom Providence has so plainly placed over me? As to +calling Mrs. Fabian worldly, I don't know what you mean by that. She +has been as kind as a mother to me, and I don't think it is just the +thing to speak of her in that way in her own house. But come, don't +let's quarrel. I want to hear all about your travels. Where did you go? +And where did your father pick up this Mr. Williams?" + +"He found him quite by accident in a little town not far from New York, +where we stopped over night," answered Mary, making a desperate grasp +after her good humor, and partly recovering it. "We were in the stage +together, and we got talking. He asked where we were from, and when +papa told him, he said he once met a gentleman from our place under +rather peculiar circumstances—General Stanfield. Of course that set +papa asking questions, and he soon found out the whole story. So your +dreams are fulfilled, Calista, and you will be able to do what you +please with the old mansion." + +"I don't seem to think or care much about that now," said Calista. "Of +course, I am glad to have something decent to wear, and to finish my +education; but I had rather set my heart on being a teacher. However, +there is no telling what may happen yet. 'There's many a slip,' you +know." + + + +CHAPTER NINETEENTH. + +MISS PRISCILLA MAKES CHANGES. + +THE proverb which Calista had quoted did not seem likely to be +fulfilled in her case. The business went on smoothly. + +Calista wisely resolved to ask no questions, and to think as little as +possible about the matter. She worked very hard at her lessons, did +her best to please Mrs. Fabian, accepting in the best spirit all that +lady's hints about manners, dress, and so forth, and fell into all the +ways of a daughter of the house. She was happier than she had supposed +possible, and would have been quite happy but for her anxiety about her +aunt. Mrs. Fabian said she should never be able to part with Calista, +and began to calculate the time of her nephew's return from Europe. + +Miss Priscilla had waited impatiently for Chloe's return. And the +moment she entered the house, she was saluted with the question,— + +"Chloe, where's Miss Calista?" + +"Why, she's at Mrs. Fabian's, of course, a-having of a good time," +answered Chloe, assuming that mask of absolute non-comprehension which +only a negro or an Indian can assume to perfection. "The last I saw of +her she was a-setting on the back stoop helping Mrs. Fabian peel and +core crab-apples. Mrs. Fabian, she has a little tin thing that she had +made a purpose, but I always takes a quill," concluded Chloe, with the +air of one communicating valuable information. "I think the tin kind of +blacks 'em, don't you?" + +"Nonsense! What do I care about your crab-apples?" said Miss Priscilla, +impatiently. "When is she coming home?" + +"Not for a good long while, I should think," answered Chloe, with an +innocent air of surprise. "She took her trunk, didn't she? I thought I +saw it standing in her bed-room." + +Miss Priscilla was not pleased. She said no more at the time, but the +next day she ordered the chaise to drive to town. + +"Put Miss Calista's room in nice order," said she to Chloe. "You can +give her the wash-basin and pitcher out of the front bed-room, and some +white towels out of the press. I presume she will come back with me. A +day or two's visit is all very well, but I don't want her staying on to +be spoiled by that foolish woman." + +"Now, I call Mrs. Fabian a real nice lady," said Chloe. "She hardly +ever speaks a harsh word, and knows how to keep house as well as any +one I ever saw." + +"Much you know about housekeeping! Tell David to have the chaise ready, +and get out my brown silk and my India shawl." + +In the brown silk and the India shawl did Miss Priscilla alight at Mr. +Fabian's, and ask for Miss Stanfield. + +"Oh, Mrs. Fabian, please don't leave me alone with her," said Calista. +"I don't know what she may do." + +"Don't be alarmed, my dear, nothing shall hurt you," said gentle Mrs. +Fabian. "Miss Stanfield has not asked for me, but I shall remain in the +next room so as to be within call." + +Miss Priscilla greeted her niece with unusual cordiality, and Calista +was glad to respond. They talked about a variety of things for a few +minutes, and then Miss Priscilla said, in a matter-of-fact way,— + +"I think you had better go home with me to-day, Calista. David will not +be in till Saturday, and you don't want to make your visit too long." + +Calista summoned all her power, and inwardly asked for help from the +Source of all strength. + +"I am not going back again at present, aunt," said she, gently. "You +know Miss Druett—" + +"I know Miss Druett made a very silly will, which I could break up in a +day if I chose, but I shall not try," interrupted Miss Priscilla. "You +are quite welcome to her little savings. But your place is with me, and +I must insist on your coming home at once." + +"I cannot do it, aunt," answered Calista, firmly but kindly. "You have +no right to expect it after the way you have treated me. Mr. Fabian and +Mr. Settson both wish me to live here." + +"Pray, what has Mr. Settson to do with it?" + +"He will tell you if you ask him. Please do, aunt. There is something +new turned up that you ought to know about." + +"What do you mean?" said Miss Priscilla, turning pale. + +"I would rather not tell you, aunt. Please ask Mr. Settson. It is +something about a will. And, aunt, I took grandfather's old cloak to +put round me; will you take it back with you?" + +"Cloak! What cloak?" asked Miss Priscilla. + +"The old blue cloak with red facings. I took it to put over me because +the evening was so cold. The one you gave me to cut into carpet-rags." + +"I believe it was the carpet-rags scared you away," said Miss +Priscilla, trying to make a joke of the matter; "we won't say any more +about them, and you shall spin or do what you please. And only just +let me have that money, and you will see what will come of it," she +whispered. "Jael is quite sure we shall find the treasure the next full +moon." + +"Jael! Oh, Aunt Priscilla, don't have anything to do with those +wretches. Pray, don't." + +"Much you know about it! Just see what she brought me only last week." +And Miss Priscilla exhibited a large gold coin. + +Calista looked at it. + +"Why, aunt, how can you be humbugged so!" said she, laughing. "This +is one of the very pieces I found in grandfather's desk. Don't you +remember, they were all marked? See here," and Calista pointed out the +small deep cross cut on the margin of the guinea. + +Miss Priscilla snatched it back. + +"Nonsense, child! As if two guineas could not be marked. Come, get your +things on." + +"Aunt Priscilla, you must excuse me," said Calista, decidedly. "I am +not going home with you. I wish I could, but you yourself have made it +impossible. What did you think would ever become of me if I had not +found a way of escaping, when you shut me up in the old house to stay +without light or food all night?" + +"I didn't stay away all night," said Miss Priscilla. + +"But you meant to, aunt, or else why did you send Chloe into town to +stay with her sister?" + +"I should like to know how you got out, that's all!" said Miss +Priscilla. + +"A way was made for me. No, aunt, I cannot go back at present, if +for no other reason than that you allow that woman to come about the +place, and have dealings with her. Oh, aunt, don't!" exclaimed Calista. +"Please don't! I am sure nothing but harm can come of it. Even if you +found the money—if it is not all a cheat and delusion, as I believe it +is—what good would it do you? You must soon leave it, even if it does +not leave you. Just think how short this life is, and how long eternity +is; do think of your immortal soul!" + +"Nonsense! I am not to be scared by Methodistical cant," said Miss +Priscilla, though she trembled visibly. "But if you are absolutely +determined to put yourself into the hands of these people, who will +turn you out helpless on the world just as soon as they have stripped +you of everything, do so. I wash my hands of you. And when you are +stripped and turned out, or kept to clean floors and black shoes for +that proud fool of a woman, don't come back to me. I wash my hands +of you. It was a bad day for me when I first took you out of the +poor-house. Don't come back to me. I don't like snakes!" + +A part of this amiable speech was intended for the ears of Mrs. Fabian, +whose presence in the next room Miss Priscilla suspected, though she +did not see her. But Mrs. Fabian, calmly superior, worked on at her +lace collar, and smiled. She knew the strength that lay in silence. + +"Shall I get you the cloak, aunt?" + +"Yes; I don't choose that my dead father's clothes should be in such +hands. And do not call me 'aunt,' if you please. I acknowledge no +relationship to you any more." + +Miss Priscilla departed, and crossed the road to Mr. Settson's +office, from which she was seen to issue after a somewhat lengthened +conference, followed by Mr. Settson with a large tin box, which he +placed carefully in the chaise. Rejecting the gentleman's assistance, +Miss Priscilla unfastened Jeff, the pony, and drove out of Cohansey +town, never to enter its streets again. + + +Calista retired to her room and, girl-like, indulged in a hearty fit of +crying. She could not return with Aunt Priscilla, and yet the thought +of her aunt living alone, without even the solace of her evening +cribbage and backgammon, was dreadful to her. But there was no use +crying about it to annoy Mrs. Fabian, and nothing she could do about +it—and then she remembered she could pray about it. She could not +influence or comfort or protect Aunt Priscilla, but there was One who +could do all these things, and to that One Calista betook herself with +simple and child-like faith. + + +The next day but one, as Calista set out for school, she saw Chloe and +David talking to Mr. Settson at his office gate. He beckoned her across +the street. + +"Here is a new state of things," said he. "Chloe tells me that your +aunt has turned her and David away, almost at a moment's warning. Worse +than that, she has taken that woman Jael and her husband into the house +to live." + +"Oh, Mr. Settson, can nothing be done?" exclaimed Calista, much +distressed. "Think of her alone with those dreadful creatures! She will +be ill-treated, if not robbed and murdered. Can nothing be done to save +her from them? Surely, she must be crazy!" + +"I must turn the matter over and see what can be done," said Mr. +Settson; "but I don't know where to get hold of the case. Miss +Stanfield has an undoubted right to take whom she pleases into her own +house, and, so long as she displays such acuteness in money matters, we +can hardly call her insane. But do not be distressed, my dear; we will +try to keep watch of their doings. At any rate, it is not your fault." + +"How did she manage it?" asked Calista of Chloe. + +"Well, she came home in a great tantrum, ready to turn the house out +of window; then she calls me in and wants to know how you got out. And +says I,— + +"'Why, Miss Priscy, you told me yourself she went away in the carriage +with Mr. Fabian.' + +"Then she wanted to know if any of your things was left behind in the +house, and I said, not that I knew of. For, you see, just as soon as +she was gone, David and me, we moved your trunks to a safe place, +thinking to send them to you. Then she didn't say any more, only went +up and rummaged over your room. That night old Jael came and stayed all +the evening, and the next morning came again. And then Miss Priscy told +David and me we could go—she didn't want any more of us, and paid us +up. And we bundled up our things and borrowed Cash's old wagon and came +away. And we's got your things along with ours, and I suppose we've got +to look-out for some place to be in and something to do." + +"I wouldn't have cared," said David, who was a man of few words, "only +for the dumb beasts—Jeff and the farm horses, and the cows." And David +turned away and wiped a suspicious drop from his eyelids. + +"Miss McPherson wants a cook and a coachman, I know," said Calista; +"how would that suit you?" + +"First-rate," said Chloe, speaking for both, as usual; "wouldn't it, +old man?" + +"Suit me," said David. "I ain't afraid to groom horses, nor drive +horses, with any man in Cumberland County. But I don't know as you +could cook good enough for the young ladies." + +"Oh, you go 'long! He will have his joke, you see, David will," said +Chloe, apologizing for her partner's light-mindedness. "Well, maybe you +might speak to the lady, Miss Calista. We'll leave your trunks to Mrs. +Fabian's, and then I guess we'll go to Jubalina's." + +"That is just what I have been expecting," said Calista, as she walked +along to school with Mary. "If such things were, I should think Jael +had bewitched her, as Chloe says. To think of her taking those people +into the house to live with her!" + +"Perhaps if you had staid she would not have done it," said Mary, who +had been planning for Calista a grand self-sacrifice, and did not like +to have her romance destroyed. + +"I don't think it would have made any difference," said Calista. +"One thing she wanted me for was that she might use me in her +treasure-seeking scheme. And do you know she showed me a guinea which +Jael professed to have found, and it was one of the very pieces which +I found when I looked over grandfather's desk. I knew it, because they +were all marked." + +"How could she come by it?" + +"I suppose aunt paid it to them—she has given them ever so much money +already—and Jael gave it back, trusting to aunt's blindness not to +recognize it. Oh dear! I wish this will business was finished; then we +could soon clear out the poor old house." + +"I should hardly think you would wish to turn your poor aunt out of the +house where she has lived so long, even if you don't want to live with +her," said Mary, reproachfully. + +Calista faced round upon her rather sharply. + +"Who said I did? Or why should you suppose that one invariably means +to do the very worst thing possible under the circumstances? Would you +like to have any one do so by you? You said only yesterday that it was +a great cross to have your mother's aunt come into the family and take +up the best room, though she seems to be a very nice, kind old lady." + +"She smokes," said Mary. + +"Well, do you think it would be very much better if, instead of +smoking, she addressed some insulting or sarcastic remark to you, or +now and then threw a book at you for variety?" + +"But I have taken up my cross," said Mary, somewhat taken aback. + +"Would you if you could help it?" asked Calista. "Wouldn't you be glad +this minute if the old lady were sent somewhere else?" + +Mary did not answer. + +"That is not my idea of taking up the cross," Calista continued. "And +any way, Mary, it is my duty to obey those whom Providence has set over +me, as your father says. I won't deny that I enjoy the change. It is +something not to go to bed hungry, and to have a comfortable bed to +sleep in." + +"Surely you did not go hungry?" + +"Indeed I did, half the time; and I had not bed-clothes enough for +decent neatness, not to say warmth. I wonder how that would suit you, +who must have at least three or four clean towels every week. Only for +Miss Druett, I should have had nothing but woollen sheets all winter. +More than that, I never had a cent of pocket-money for any use till +Miss Druett took charge of me. But I don't mean that my present life +shall make me self-indulgent. I have been trying to lay down some rules +for myself, like Mrs. Fletcher. Oh, Mary, I wish you would read that +book!" + +"I should like to see it," said Mary, beginning to feel a little +ashamed. + +"I will lend it to you. Then no one could live with Mrs. Fabian without +being the better for it," continued Calista. "She is so good and +gentle, and does so much in such a quiet way. Just think! She sends +poor Mrs. Rolfe a dinner fit for a sick person every day, and always +sees to it herself." + +"I am glad you told me," said Mary, feeling still more ashamed of her +harsh judgment. "I wonder if I could not do something for her." + +"She wants old linen very much. I have just been making some +handkerchiefs for her, out of a fine old linen night-dress of mother's." + +"I don't see how you could do that; I should think everything of your +mother's would be sacred," said Mary. + +"I thought mother would like it if she were here," said Calista, +simply; "and I wanted to give something of my own." + +Here the conversation ended. + +But as Mary sat down to her desk, she said to herself, "I am envious +and jealous, and that is the whole of it. Calista's money has spoiled +me more than it has her." And the snake, being called by his right +name, dived into his den to be seen no more that day. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTIETH. + +AN EXPLOSION. + +THE weeks went on very quietly with Calista for a time—so quietly and +pleasantly that she sometimes wondered whether either her present or +her former life were not a dream. She worked as hard in school as if +she still had no other prospect than that of becoming a teacher, and +found great delight in her drawing; for which she showed a special +talent. At home she took the place of a daughter. She helped in the +housekeeping, and learned to make cakes, and preserves, and pickles in +endless variety. She read aloud to Mrs. Fabian, and saw, in a quiet +way, a good deal of company, and listened to a great deal of clever +conversation. + +She would have been perfectly happy only for that thought which was +always in the background—poor Aunt Priscilla. She could hear very +little about her. Mr. Davis, who managed the farm, reported that he +rarely saw her. He thought she was shut in her room a good deal. Jael +had a younger woman with her,—her daughter, he thought,—and he feared +Miss Priscilla did not fare very well. + +At last, one crisp, delightful morning in late October, Calista came +in from an early run in the garden with her hands full of the hardy +flowers which that mild climate often spares till Christmas. As she +came into the entry, she found old Cassius talking with Mr. Fabian, and +both wearing such anxious, perturbed faces that she started and dropped +her basket. + +"Oh, I am sure something has happened to aunt!" said she. "Do tell me! +What is it?" + +"Don't alarm yourself, my dear," said Mr. Fabian. "I think the time has +come for interfering in your poor aunt's behalf. Tell Miss Calista your +story, Cassius, but first come in out of the draught." + +"Tom Edgar and me was a-coming home from sitting up with old Mr. +Heminway," Cassius began, without any of his usual prefaces; "it was +about five, and not very light, when we see old Zeke and Jael come out +of Miss Stanfield's house, all loaded down with bundles. They hid 'em +away in the Red Hollow, and started back for more, I suppose. Tom says, +says he,— + +"'Uncle Cash, they're robbing the house. I wonder if they've killed the +old lady?' + +"Says I, 'Tom, you keep watch here, and I'll run home and get my horse +and ride into town as fast as I can go.' + +"You see, I thought Tom was the strongest, if it came to a tussle, and +I knew the old mare would go faster with me than with any one." + +"Oh, Mr. Fabian, do let us go out there at once!" said Calista, in an +agony of impatience. "Oh, won't you do something?" + +"We will do everything. Don't distress yourself, my dear. We must get +some force together, and proper authority, and then we will set out +directly," said Mr. Fabian. + +"But you will take me with you?" said Calista. + +"No, my dear, not till we find out what state things are in. I promise +you, you shall go the moment there is anything to do. Now, be a good +girl and try to keep composed." + +"I will," said Calista; "only do send for me as soon as you can." + + +Mr. Fabian was not the man to let grass grow under his feet, but it +seemed an age of agonized suspense before Tom Edgar arrived on his +splendid black horse, about the last relic of his prosperous days. + +"We've caught them—caught them in the very act!" said he, as soon as +he could speak. "I believe they would have got off, but the old woman, +in her hurry, tried to cross the middle of the hollow, and got bogged. +I had hard work to save her, I can tell you. I thought I should go in +myself. They had cleaned out the house pretty well, but we have got +some of the things, and I guess we shall find the rest." + +"But my aunt!" exclaimed Calista. "Never mind the things." + +"Well, I'm afraid the old lady is in a pretty bad way," said Tom, +gravely. "Mr. Fabian says you are to come out in the little carriage +directly, and bring Aunt Betsy and the doctor; and here's a note for +madam. I spoke to the old lady coming along, and she will be all ready, +and the doctor is half way there by this time. Here's the note." + +"Mr. Fabian says: + + "'I wish you to come at once, and bring some clean linen and clothes +for the poor thing, who is in a pitiful condition, and quite +unconscious. Let Calista come with you. It is possible her voice may +rouse Miss Stanfield. Only for Cassius and Tom we should never have +succeeded.'" + +"You must have some refreshment, Mr. Edgar," said Mrs. Fabian, always +considerate. "Will you take some breakfast? Miranda, give Mr. Edgar +some breakfast. Put on your bonnet, Calista. I will quickly get +together what is needed." + +With such a perfect housekeeper as Mrs. Fabian, it was the work of a +few minutes to collect a basket of clean linen, tea, and sugar, and +whatever a sick person would be likely to need. They called for Aunt +Betsy, but she had already "caught a ride" with Dr. Elsmore, and when +they arrived at the Stanfield mansion, she met them at the door. + +"I'm glad you've come. Did thee bring some clean linen, Maria Fabian? +Yes, I see: trust thee to think of everything. Doctor says she has +been drugged with something, though he doesn't know what, and that +washing her and changing her clothes will be as likely to rouse her as +anything. Calista, thee 'd better stay down here till we get her fixed +a little." + +"No, no, let her come up," said the doctor. "Miss Stanfield may notice +her niece's voice." + +"Oh yes, do," said Calista. + +And in a moment she had run up the well-remembered stairs, and was +bending over her aunt, kissing her and speaking words of love and +tenderness into her ear. But there was no voice, nor any that answered. + +Priscilla lay on her bed, her eyes half open and dull as a dead +person's. Her night-dress and bed-clothes looked as if they had not +been changed for weeks. Some dry remnants of bread and a tumbler of +sour milk stood near her on a little table. She was terribly emaciated, +and was hardly to be recognized by those who had seen her a few weeks +before. + +"She looks starved," whispered Calista. + +"I fear she is starved, and worse," answered the doctor, gravely. "But, +now, if you know of a room near by which can be comfortably fitted up, +you may set about it, while Miss Betsy and Aunt Sally get her washed +and her clothes changed." + +"We had better take Miss Druett's room, I think," said Calista, to Mrs. +Fabian, as they stood in the entry. "The bed is tolerably good, and it +is the only one, except mine, which has been used since I came to the +house." + +"And where was yours?" + +"Up in the attic," answered Calista. "This is Miss Druett's room," she +continued, opening the door as she spoke. "It does not seem to have +been disturbed. Here are all the seals just as Mr. Fabian put them on. +I wonder they did not break open the drawers." + +"Very likely some superstition restrained them," said Mrs. Fabian. "It +was a sad day for your poor aunt when Miss Druett died." + +"Yes, she was the only person who had any influence with her. Shall I +open all the windows? It seems very close." + +"Do, my dear, and see if you can procure some wood and the means of +making a fire. Nothing freshens up the air of a room like an open fire." + +When Calista came back with her basket of wood and chips, and looked in +the cupboard for a tinder-box (there were no lucifers or parlor matches +in those days), Mrs. Fabian attacked the bed as energetically as any +housemaid. + +By the time the poor invalid had been washed and dressed, the room had +assumed a neat and habitable aspect. Sally carried her in her arms as +if she had been an infant, and laid her in bed. + +"Is she dead?" asked Calista, in a tearful whisper. + +"Oh no, honey; she's better. She opened her eyes, and swallowed some +water. Now I'll just run down and make a little wine-whey—that's soon +made and very strengthening—and if she takes that, we'll try her with +some broth. But we must be very careful, for I don't believe she has +had any food for two or three days. I suppose there is wine in the +house?" + +"There ought to be plenty in the cellar, but I have no notion where +the keys are or what may be left," replied Calista. "For aught I know, +these wretches may have drunk it all." + +"Oh, I've got the keys. She had them hid in the bed, as if that would +do any good." + +And Sally departed, leaving Mrs. Fabian and Calista with the invalid. + + +Presently Aunt Sally came back with her whey, and with great care +proceeded to feed Miss Priscilla, who swallowed two or three spoonsful +apparently without the least consciousness of what she was doing. + +"That's well," said Sally. "When folks can swallow, there's always +hopes of them. Now, I must go home for a little, but I'll come back and +stay to-night. Do you mean to stay, Miss Calista?" + +"Oh yes. Please do let me, Mrs. Fabian," said Calista, anticipating +Mrs. Fabian's cautious—"Really, I don't know." "You know she might come +to herself any time and know me. Oh, it would be worth so much if she +would. After all, she was my father's sister, and she did give me a +home. I am afraid I have been very ungrateful." + +"Some folks is thankful for small favors, ain't they?" said Sally, +aside, to Mrs. Fabian. "I wouldn't treat a stray cat as Miss Priscy +used to treat that poor child. But there is something in what she +says," she added, aloud. "Miss Priscy might come to and know her, and +perhaps say something she ought to hear." + +"I will ask Mr. Fabian," said the lady, perplexed between her feeling +for Miss Priscy and her care for Calista. "He will know what is best." + + +"Really, my love, I think Calista is right," said Mr. Fabian. "I think +there is no real danger. These wretches are already on their way to +Cohansey jail under a very sufficient guard, and Mr. Davis and his son +have volunteered to remain in the house all night. As Calista says, it +is very desirable she should be with her aunt when she recovers her +senses, both from motives of affection and because the poor lady may be +able to give us important information." + +"I think you said you had recovered all the property," said Mrs. Fabian. + +"All that is recoverable; that is, all the silver and such like. A +great deal has been destroyed in mere wantonness. And as for the wines, +real Burgundy and the most valuable Madeira wasted like water." And +Mr. Fabian shut his eyes and groaned. "They must have been tipsy when +they planned their flight, or they would have been more clever about +it. The old woman, who seemed to feel some gratitude to Tom Edgar for +rescuing her from a terrible death in the bog, said they tried to open +the bricked up cellar, but every time they did, they heard the old +gentleman firing pistols at them inside." + +"Lawful Suz!" said Sally. "What do you s'pose it was?" + +"No doubt the bursting of champagne and cider bottles disturbed by the +concussion. I think, my love, we had better go back and send Calista +some comforts and necessaries in the way of provisions and the like. +One or both of us can come out in the morning." + +Mrs. Fabian bade Calista farewell with many embraces. In about two +hours the horses came back with a load of bedding, provisions, and the +like, and also with Chloe, who, on hearing of the catastrophe, had at +once and adroitly inserted Jubalina in her place at Miss McPherson's, +and came out to help take care of her old and her young miss. + +Calista's watch was destined to last more than one or two days. Miss +Priscilla remained in about the same state, eating and drinking what +was given her, but, as it seemed, almost without consciousness. Mrs. +Fabian had fitted up a comfortable room for Calista, and Miss Betsy +would not allow her to sit up at night; but by day she only left the +sick room for her meals and the open air exercise her friends insisted +on. + + +One afternoon she was sitting alone with her aunt, Miss Betsy having +gone to lie down. It was one of those perfect days which never come +except late in the autumn, and both windows were open, though a little +fire was burning on the hearth. Calista sat by the open window musing +over all the changes that had taken place in a year. She almost felt +inclined to doubt her own identity. Chloe had just been up to ask what +Miss Calista would have for supper; and as Miss Calista, as usual, had +no opinion of her own, she had suggested hot cream biscuit and fried +oysters. + +"Just to think,—" said Calista to herself, as she leaned out of the +window to watch a flight of birds making for the reed-beds on the +river—"just to think of Chloe's asking 'me' what I would like for +supper! I, who used to be snapped at and sent away from the table for +asking for more butter. To think how many times I have gone to bed +hungry in this very house! I wonder if it is all a dream, like the +dreams of pudding and roast meat I used to have in those days." + +A slight movement at the bed made her look round. Miss Priscilla was +regarding her with a look of intelligence and full of wonder. Calista +felt the need of perfect calmness, but her heart beat fast as she bent +over her aunt. + +"Calista! It is Calista, isn't it?" + +"Yes, Aunt Priscy. Are you better? Do you want anything?" + +She waited in a kind of awe for her aunt's first words, anti when they +came, she almost laughed aloud in the sudden revulsion of feeling. + +"Calista, who is frying oysters?" + +"Chloe, aunt. Mrs. Fabian sent some." + +"Chloe!" in a tone of surprise. Then, as memory came slowly back, "But +how did you come here?" + +"I came to take care of you, Aunt Priscy." + +"But you must not stay!" said Miss Priscilla, in a low tone of abject +terror. "They will come back and kill you, and give me more of that +dreadful medicine. Oh, Calista, I haven't been good to you, but can't +you get me away from them? Can't you?" + +"You need have no more fear of those wretches, Aunt Priscy," said +Calista, trembling between fear and excitement. "They are all safe in +Cohansey jail." + +"All! What, Jael too?" + +"Yes, all; and you have no more to fear from them. Aunt Betsy and +myself are taking care of you; and Chloe has come back to do the work." + +"But how was it? And, where am I?" asked Miss Priscy, bewildered. "This +is not my room; this is Druey's!" + +"We moved you in here to have your room and bed cleaned, Aunt Priscy. +Don't you like it?" + +"Yes, it is all very nice; and you are a good girl to come back—a very +good girl. You won't leave me, will you?" + +"No, indeed, aunt," said Calista, trying to steady her voice. "You know +I would not have gone if I could have helped it." + +"I know! But my mind is confused," said the poor lady. "Are you sure +those people are gone?" + +"Quite sure, aunt. Did they use you badly?" + +"They beat me and starved me to make me tell where my father's money +was hid, and when I said I didn't know, they gave me horrible stuff. It +made me crazy." + +"But you are better now," said Calista. + +"Yes; I am not crazy now. Calista, I want to see Mr. Settson. Send for +him." + +"Yes, we'll send for him right away," said Miss Betsy, who had entered +the room unperceived; "but thee mustn't talk any more now. Calista, go +to thy supper, and tell John Davis to go for Mr. Settson— + +"And the doctor," she added, following her to the door. "I mistrust she +will not last long now she has come to herself." + +Calista returned to kiss her aunt, and Miss Priscy held her with her +thin hand and looked wistfully at her. + +"I should like a nice fresh raw oyster," she said. "Could I have one?" + +"Yes, yes, dear; you shall have what you want," said Calista, unable +to keep back her tears at the changed tone and manner; "shall she not, +Aunt Betsy?" + +"Yes, an oyster is just the thing; but let Calista go now." + +"And, Calista, tell Chloe not to use butter to fry with. It is +extravagant, and lard is just as good." + +"I will, aunt." And Calista finally escaped. + +She sent a messenger for the doctor and lawyer, who came together. + +"Let her have just what she fancies; it won't make any difference," +was the doctor's sentence; "she is running down like a clock. There is +nothing to be done but to give her a little stimulant to keep her up as +long as we can. But it is wonderful how clear her mind is. She seems as +bright as ever." + +Miss Priscilla had a short private conference with Mr. Settson, who +came out of the room wiping his glasses and his eyes. + +"She wants you, Calista," said he. "She understands the whole affair +now, and says she is glad all will come to you. Shall I send any one +out to you?" + +"Oh, if Mary would come! If she is not afraid, I should so like to have +her." + + +But Mary was afraid, and showed it so obviously that her father decided +that she would be neither a help nor a comfort, and accepted Miss +Meeks's offer instead. Mr. Fabian was disabled by one of his rare +attacks of illness, and his wife could not leave him; but she heaped +Miss Meeks with everything she thought could be a comfort to herself or +Calista, remarking in her silvery, emphatic voice, that she was glad +Calista had friends who would not desert her in the hour of trial. + +Poor Mary fled into her room to cry herself into a fit of sick +headache. It was a terrible tumble, but a wholesome, and it was noticed +that Mary's Christianity was hereafter much more charitable and less +didactic in its character. + + +When Calista came back to her aunt's bedside, she took both her hands +and drew her down beside her. + +"Mr. Settson has told me all about the will," said she. "I did not hide +it, Calista. I did not believe my father ever made it. But it is quite +right. I was a wicked woman. I had Richard's letters, and never let my +father see them. Poor Dick! He was such a pretty boy, with curly hair. +'Pity' he used to call me; but I had not much pity on him. But father +need not have taught him—" + +She seemed to be wandering and, desirous to call her back, Calista +said, gently— + +"But you are sorry now, Aunt Priscy. You wouldn't do so again." + +"Yes, I am sorry. I would take it back, but we can't take back the +past. It won't come back. Calista, I was not good to you, but you won't +turn me out of the house, will you? I was born here, and I should like +to—You won't turn me out, will you?" she repeated, wistfully looking +into Calista's face. + +"No, indeed, aunt! Don't think of such a thing!" said Calista. "But +don't mind about business—not now. Don't you want to have Mr. Alger or +Mr. Lee come to see you?" + +"No, no!" said Miss Priscy. "But you may get your Bible and read to me, +if you like. Read in St. John. Your grandmother liked that." + +Glad of so much concession, Calista got her book and read on far into +the night. The restlessness of death was on Miss Priscilla, but so long +as Calista read, she was tolerably quiet, sometimes murmuring over +words that struck her mind or fancy. + +At last she dropped asleep, and Calista dozed too, leaning on the side +of the bed. She was wakened by a gentle touch from Miss Meeks, who had +shared her vigil and spent almost the whole night in prayer. + +Calista looked at her aunt, and by the light of a new day saw the awful +gray shadow which never falls but once. + +Her aunt was sensible; she pressed Calista's hand and spoke faintly— + +"Child—never love money—it is poison if you do; you'll have a great +deal—but you had better lose it all—than set your heart on it." + +"You will forgive me, won't you, aunt?" said Calista, through her tears. + +"There was nothing to forgive," said she; "I am the one to need +forgiveness—you and Druey were good to me—always." She held Calista's +hand fast in hers, and looked fixedly at her. + +Then collecting her strength for a last effort, "God bless you!" she +said, in her old strong tones—"God bless you!" Her head fell back. + +"She is gone," said Aunt Chloe, coming forward and closing the poor +eyes that had looked their last. "The Lord have mercy on her! She +confessed him in her death, if she didn't in her life." + + +There is little more to tell. Old Jael was no sooner in Cohansey +jail than she was attacked with rheumatic fever, of which she died +after long suffering. She seemed much struck with Tom Edgar's bravery +in saving her life at the risk of his own. She had every comfort +consistent with her situation, but there was no cure and little +alleviation was possible. At first she positively refused to hear one +word on religion; but Tom Edgar at last won her to hear the Bible read, +and by slow degrees her mind opened to the truth. + +Before she died she made a full confession. She said she and her +husband had imposed on Miss Priscilla's credulity, in order to gain +access to General Stanfield's house and get possession of the treasure +which they believed he had hidden there. They had meant to frighten +away Miss Druett and Calista, or to work on Miss Priscilla till she +drove them out of the house, but the death of the former had opened the +way for them more easily than they expected. + +They had found Miss Priscilla harder to deal with than they expected. +Her suspicions became aroused, and she insisted on keeping the keys +herself, so that at last they had given her things to make her keep her +bed. What the "things" were she obstinately refused to tell, saying +that some one might make a bad use of them again, but they were roots +and herbs that her people knew of. + +She declared that her daughter had nothing to do with the robbery or +with ill-treating Miss Priscilla. There being no proof against the +younger woman, she was allowed to go free. And after her mother's +death, she disappeared from the place. + +Zeke was tried and convicted, but his mind failed so entirely before +the end of the trial that he was sent to an asylum; from which, +however, he contrived to escape, and was found dead in the Red Hollow, +to which some glimmering of remembrance had no doubt led him. + +The old house was put in good repair, but Calista did not come to live +in it for several years. She lived as a daughter with Mr. and Mrs. +Fabian, cheering their old age with daughterly care and affection. + +As soon as she was of age, she visited her mother's old home, where +she found Mrs. Tom Folsom old and poor, but still working to support +herself and her helpless son, and after much persuasion prevailed on +that lady to accept a tolerable provision, which should place her +above the need of labor much too hard for her age. Miss Malvina's +little old red house happening to be in the market, Calista bought +and fitted it up neatly as a residence for her cousin, and saw her +comfortably established before leaving her. Mrs. John Folsom, who was +still preaching self-denial, thought Miss Stanfield might have used +her money to better purpose, but every one else was pleased to see the +hard-working, independent woman so well provided for. + +Nor was this Calista's only work of benevolence. Her money was not +like a stagnant reservoir, poisoning all who came near, but being +kept running like a flowing stream, it brought many a blessing which +returned to the owner again. It paid Mary Burns's way through school +till she was able to take a first-class place as teacher. It brightened +and soothed the declining years of Miss Meeks. And far and wide, in +heathen lands and at home, it helped to spread the good tidings of the +gospel of peace. + +"Calista is not spoiled, though she has seen so much of the world and +had so much money," remarked Mary Settson, when Calista came home from +Europe, whither she had gone on her bridal tour when she married Mr. +Fabian's nephew. "I was a little afraid for her, but she is not spoiled +at all." + +"The world has not spoiled her, because she has never loved the world," +said Belle Adair—Belle Adair no more, but the hard-working wife of a +city clergyman. "Neither money nor the world can do us any harm unless +we let them into our hearts. And depend upon it, Mary, those who live +for this world most entirely are those who get the least enjoyment out +of it." + + + "THEY THAT WILL BE RICH FALL INTO TEMPTATION AND A SNARE . . . THE LOVE +OF MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL."—_Paul to Timothy._ + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75576 *** diff --git a/75576-h/75576-h.htm b/75576-h/75576-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef0d5ac --- /dev/null +++ b/75576-h/75576-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10252 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The Old Stanfield House; or, The Sin of Covetousness, by Lucy Ellen Guernsey │ Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/image001.jpg" type="image/cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size:12.0pt; + font-family:"Verdana"; +} + +p {text-indent: 2em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.w100 { + width: auto + } + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 125%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t2 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3b { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center + } + +p.t4 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center + } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.poem { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + padding: 20px 0; + text-align: left; + width: 555px; + } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 90%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75576 ***</div> + +<p>Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image001" style="max-width: 33.8125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image001.jpg" alt="image001"> +</figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image002" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="image002"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b><em>Old Stanfield House.—Frontispiece.</em></b><br> +<b>"Evening, Zeke," said Cassius.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +THE<br> +</p> + +<h1>OLD STANFIELD HOUSE;</h1> + +<p class="t3"> +OR,<br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +THE SIN OF COVETOUSNESS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +AUTHOR OF<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +"IRISH AMY," "THE FAIRCHILDS," "RHODA'S EDUCATION," ETC., ETC.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +——————————<br> +<br> +"Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world."<br> +<br> +——————————<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +PHILADELPHIA:<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +NO. 1122 CHESTNUT STREET.<br> +——————————<br> +NEW YORK: NO. 8 AND 10 BIBLE HOUSE, ASTOR PLACE.<br> +CHICAGO: 73 RANDOLPH ST.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————<br> +<br> +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by the<br> +<br> +AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION,<br> +<br> +In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.<br> +<br> +————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS.<br> +<br> +——————<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CHAP.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_1">I.—THE OLD HOUSE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_2">II.—SCHOOL</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_3">III.—AUNT BETSY</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_4">IV.—CASSIUS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_5">V.—CALISTA ASKS A QUESTION</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_6">VI.—THE SECRET DRAWER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_7">VII.—MISS MEEKS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_8">VIII.—MARY</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_9">IX.—THE STORM BREAKS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_10">X.—MISS DRUETT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_11">XI.—THE NEEDLE-CASE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_12">XII.—THE TRUNKS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_13">XIII.—THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_14">XIV.—OLD JAEL</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_15">XV.—EVIL INFLUENCES</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_16">XVI.—THE FAIR</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_17">XVII.—MR. FABIAN CALLS AGAIN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_18">XVIII.—MISS PRISCILLA</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_19">XIX.—MISS PRISCILLA MAKES CHANGES</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_20">XX.—AN EXPLOSION</a></p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> +<b>THE OLD STANFIELD HOUSE.</b><br> +<br> +——————<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER FIRST.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE OLD HOUSE.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CALISTA STANFIELD stood at the gate of the old Stanfield place one +morning in the latter end of May, looking abroad over the fields. +The house stood on a little rise of ground such as in that part of +the world is dignified by the name of a hill. The foreground of the +picture on which she was looking was not very cheerful in itself, being +neither more nor less than an old family burying-ground, very full of +gravestones, and with one tall monument towering over all. Now an old +graveyard need not be a melancholy sight, provided that the grass be +kept green, the stones whole, and the enclosure free from ugly weeds. +That on which Calista was looking bore traces of utter neglect. Beyond +the graveyard spread fenced fields, some in pasture, others in the +carefully-marked squares which showed that they were meant for sweet +potatoes, or were tinted with the pale green blades of the springing +corn. Low-growing oaks, with here and there a large tree, closed is the +prospect.</p> + +<p>Calista looked at the melancholy graveyard, and then turned and looked +at the house behind her—the old Stanfield place. The one prospect was +not more cheering than the other. The mansion had been a fine one, +built of small bricks brought from Europe, and with much ornamental +woodwork about it. It stood on a high stone basement, and had a flight +of solid gray marble steps rising from each side to a wide porch with +brick pillars, and quaint carving about the gable; but the woodwork +was gray for want of paint, and in some places falling for want of a +timely nail; the steps had sunk away, leaving a yawning chasm between +themselves and the floor of the porch; most of the shutters—solid +wooden shutters such as people affect in that part of the world—were +closed, and others hung by only one hinge. There had been a somewhat +pretentious garden at one side of the house, with ornamental +trellis-work and a summer-house once covered with climbing roses; but +the trellis leaned this way and that, the summer-house had partly +fallen in, and the beds were overgrown with grass and weeds.</p> + +<p>When old General Stanfield was alive, nothing about the place, from +the grand house to the smallest chicken-coop, was ever suffered to get +out of repair. Then the house was filled with cheerful company from +one week's end to another. The second Mrs. Stanfield, like the first, +had only one child, a boy, who grew up mostly at home, sometimes under +the care of a tutor, sometimes running wild with rod and gun under the +charge of a man who had been his father's servant all through the war, +and who was still living in a little house which the General had built +and given him on the borders of his great estate.</p> + +<p>By and by the young Richard went to Princeton, and managed, despite a +great deal of idleness and some foolish frolics, to scramble through +his college course without disgrace or expulsion, and even with some +degree of credit.</p> + +<p>"Well, young Stanfield is fairly off our hands," remarked one of the +professors to the president on the evening of commencement. "I wonder +what he will turn out?"</p> + +<p>"There are two things either of which may possibly make a man of him," +replied the president. "And they are, to marry a sensible, energetic +woman, or to go into the army."</p> + +<p>"Well, if marrying will save Stanfield, I am sure I hope he will +marry," said the professor; "for, much trouble as he has made me, I am +very fond of the boy."</p> + +<p>As it happened, young Stanfield did marry and did go into the army, +yet neither of them made much of him. He went to the North on a visit, +and there married a pretty, poor girl, with no home of her own, and no +fortune save the very liberal outfit provided by the distant cousins +with whom she lived.</p> + +<p>It had never occurred to Richard Stanfield that his father could be +seriously angry with him for anything he could do. He had been allowed +his own way, and plenty of money to carry out that way, ever since he +could remember, and if his father had ever been seriously displeased, a +little coaxing penitence from his graceful, handsome son had been all +that was needful to reconcile the indulgent father.</p> + +<p>If Richard had taken his wife directly home, things might have turned +out very differently, for Calista was a sweet, gracious creature, +though timid and somewhat reserved.</p> + +<p>Richard, however, was well pleased to stay where he was, and he wrote +to his father and waited for an answer, amusing himself meanwhile, as +he had done all his life, with whatever came to hand.</p> + +<p>There was a power near the throne on which Richard had not calculated, +and which was in no wise friendly to him. Miss Priscilla Stanfield, the +General's daughter by his first wife, had at first been fond of the +pretty boy baby, and after his mother died, she had befriended him in +her fashion, till he began to interfere with the exercise of her ruling +passion. Richard loved to spend money—Miss Priscilla loved to save it; +and between the two there was a perpetual contest, sometimes open, +sometimes covert, but always more or less active. When Richard was at +home, his influence was usually uppermost with the General, who was not +very strong-minded at any time; but when Richard was away, his father +was wholly in the hands of Priscilla, who had her own ends to serve. +Priscilla persuaded her father that Richard had disgraced his family by +marrying, clandestinely, an obscure girl without family, education, or +money.</p> + +<p>The consequence was that the General wrote a very harsh letter to his +son, forbidding him to bring home the young woman with whom he had so +disgracefully connected himself. If he chose to return without her, +he was at liberty to do so. The young woman could remain with her +friends, and a suitable allowance should be made her. If Richard chose +to comply with these terms, well and, good; if not, Mr. Settson, the +old lawyer in Cohansey, was authorized to pay to his order the sum of +three hundred dollars a year, which was all that he must expect from +his father.</p> + +<p>"It is Priscilla's doing!" said Richard to his wife. "I see her hand +all through it. My father must be in his dotage. Does he take me for a +fool, or a villain?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Richard, we have done very wrong!" said poor Calista. "I never +guessed your father could take it in that way. I thought you wrote to +him. You said you would."</p> + +<p>"Well, I meant to, but the time went on, and on the whole I thought it +as well to wait. I am sure I never guessed he would take it in such an +absurd way any more than yourself. And three hundred a year! It is just +nothing."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind that so much," said Calista, to whose New England ideas +three hundred dollars seemed a much larger sum than it did to Richard; +"but it is so dreadful to think that your father is angry with you. +Perhaps if you were to go and see him—"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure but it would be a good plan," said Richard, +thoughtfully. "If I could see him alone, I dare say I could bring him +round; but there is Priscilla."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you might, bring her round too."</p> + +<p>"You don't know her, Calista. Priscilla used to be a pretty nice girl +when she was young, but she always loved money, and now I think she +cares for nothing else. If you had only been rich, she would have +thought it was all right."</p> + +<p>"Still, if you were to go there," urged Calista. "I would stay here, +you know, till you came back; I might even take the school again."</p> + +<p>"Take the school indeed! Don't let me hear of such a thing!"</p> + +<p>The time came when Calista was only too glad to take the school again.</p> + +<p>Richard fully intended to go home, see his father, and "make all +right," as he said; that is, get his own way, as he had done twenty +times before, by dint of coaxing. But several things happened to +prevent him. He had a slight accident while riding, which lamed him +for two or three weeks; then Calista was very unwell, and he could not +think of leaving her; and then winter set in, and he persuaded himself +it would be as well to wait till spring.</p> + +<p>Meantime the war of 1812 broke out. The war fever ran very high in that +part of the country. Richard fell in with it, as he did with everything +that was going. He raised a company by his own exertions, and took +command of it. He was soon ordered west, and bade a tender farewell +to his wife, whom he commended, in an earnest and dutiful letter, to +his father's care and affection. At Calista's earnest request, he also +wrote a kind letter to his sister, and enclosed both in one envelope.</p> + +<p>Whether these letters reached their destination, Richard never knew. +His company was engaged in the disastrous affair of the river Raisin, +and not a man escaped the horrible massacre which followed.</p> + +<p>His little girl, born three months after her father's death, was +motherless as well as fatherless when she was five years old. The old +couple who had stood in the place of parents to Calista Folsom were +both dead, and her poor child, with no near friends, was left on the +hands of distant cousins, who had, or thought they had, enough to do to +take care of their own families. What was to be done?</p> + +<p>"I am just going to write to her father's family," said Mrs. Tom +Folsom, at whose house poor Mrs. Richard Stanfield died. "I would like +to keep the child myself, for she is a dear little thing as ever I saw, +but I seem to have my hands full already."</p> + +<p>"I suppose we might all say that," said Mrs. John Folsom. "But what is +our Christianity worth, my dear Sophronia, if it does not lead us to +the exercise of practical self-denial?"</p> + +<p>"Self-denial—humph!" retorted Mrs. Tom. "Don't talk to me about +self-denial, Amanda. The difference in price between your winter +set-out and mine would keep the child a year."</p> + +<p>Mrs. John kept her temper, at least so far as words were concerned.</p> + +<p>"You forget that I had Calista on my hands for two years before she was +married," said she.</p> + +<p>"During which time she did all the sewing and spinning of the family, +besides keeping school three terms!" retorted Mrs. Tom. "I don't think +you can lay claim to much self-denial on that score."</p> + +<p>"Don't let us make the dear child a source of discord and contention," +said Miss Malvina Fitch; an elderly lady who lived by herself on a +very small income, which she eked out by spinning, braiding hats, and +other means. "Let Sophronia write to poor dear Richard's family, as she +proposed, and if nothing comes of it, we will see what can be done."</p> + +<p>"If nothing comes of it, the child will have to come on the town for +support, so far as I see," said Mrs. John, decidedly.</p> + +<p>"She won't do that while I have a roof over my head and half a loaf +to share with her," said old Miss Malvina, with more warmth than was +common with her. "Dear Calista's child shall never be a town charge if +I can help it."</p> + +<p>"Well, you needn't flare out so!" said Mrs. John. "I only mentioned it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and you ought to blush even to mention such a thing!" said Mrs. +Tom. "Poor as I am, with my sick husband and helpless boy, I would work +my fingers to the bone before it should happen. Our own relation, and a +soldier's child besides, and you sit there in your satin and fine cloth +and talk of sending her to the poor-house."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well, manage the matter your own way," said Mrs. John, rising +with a lofty air of composure. "I wash my hands of the whole matter; so +don't expect anything from me."</p> + +<p>"As though any one did expect anything of you," said Mrs. Tom, as she +closed the door, not very gently, after her. "Well, then, I'll write to +this General Stanfield; though I haven't much hope of anything coming +of it; and in the meantime—"</p> + +<p>"In the meantime I will keep Calista," said Miss Malvina. "There is no +one at my house to be disturbed by her noise, and what is enough for +one must stretch for two."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll help you all I can, and so I am sure will Samuel; and I dare +say John too, if he can do it without his wife's knowledge. I shall be +very glad if you can have her with you, for it is bad for the child's +disposition to be hushed up every minute, and poor Tom can't bear a bit +of noise when his bad spells are on."</p> + +<p>The letter was written and sent, and it seemed for a time as if nothing +was likely to come of it. Calista staid with Miss Malvina all winter, +learning to read and sew, and sharing the old lady's simple fare, eked +out by contributions from the cousins, and a sly dollar bill now and +then from Cousin John. When the child looked back on this winter from +her after life, it seemed to her that no fires were ever so bright and +warm as Miss Malvina's; no bread so sweet and so thickly buttered; +no, cake so delicious as the Sunday's treat of gingerbread, and that +Indian loaf (unknown, alas! to this generation) which came hot, red +and glutinous from the oven where it had staid simmering ever since +the Saturday before. In truth, the seasoning which made all Miss +Malvina's plain and economical cooking so grateful—the genuine love and +generosity—came to be sadly wanting afterward.</p> + +<p>With the spring, however, came a change. A middle-aged gentlewoman +appeared one day in the little town, charged with letters and +credentials from Miss Priscilla Stanfield, daughter and sole heir of +General Stanfield, of Cohansey, and empowered to take possession of the +child Calista Stanfield, and carry her home to her aunt. It appeared +from the letters brought by Miss Druett that she was the companion and +confidential friend of Miss Stanfield.</p> + +<p>"Then General Stanfield did not leave his son's wife anything?" said +Mrs. Tom.</p> + +<p>"Nothing whatever," answered Miss Druett, concisely.</p> + +<p>"Nor to the child?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know that he was even aware of the child's existence," said +Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"Somebody was very much to blame if he was not!" said sharp-spoken Mrs. +Tom. "For Calista wrote to him and to Miss Priscilla when the child was +born. I know, because I posted the letters myself."</p> + +<p>"The mails are somewhat uncertain," said Miss Druett; "but however +that may be, the General's whole property was left to his daughter +Priscilla. Miss Stanfield wishes it understood that she does not allow +the child to have any claim on her. She is willing to take her and give +her an education befitting her father's family, but it is entirely an +act of charity on her part."</p> + +<p>"I would not let the child go if things were different with me," said +Miss Malvina to Mrs. Tom when the matter was talked over afterward; +"but I know I have not many months to live, and if this Miss Stanfield +gives Calista such an education as she promises, the girl can earn her +own living."</p> + +<p>"And Calista may come into all the property at last; who knows?"</p> + +<p>"She most probably will," said Mrs. John, who was assisting at the +conference. "But what are you going to do with her mother's things, +Malvina? There are all the handsome dresses and other clothes that +Father and Mother Folsom bought for her, and the presents her husband +made to her afterward. They must be as good as new. What are you going +to do with them?"</p> + +<p>"That matter is already settled," said Miss Malvina, calmly. "I have +turned the trunks which held poor Calista's wardrobe and other property +over to Miss Druett for the use of the child. Sophronia and I looked +them over, and repacked them with abundance of cedar and black pepper, +and locked them up again. Of course they belong to the child; and as +Miss Stanfield assumes the care and education of the orphan, she is the +fit custodian of all that appertains to her in right of her deceased +parent."</p> + +<p>And Miss Malvina was a little soothed, in the midst of her grief, by +thinking how neatly she had turned her long sentence.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Mrs. John, significantly, and rising at the same time. "I +am sure the child is quite welcome to all that is left of her poor +mother's things. At the same time, I must say I think I might have been +consulted, if only for form's sake."</p> + +<p>"You forget that you said you washed your hands of the whole concern," +said Mrs. Tom.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well. I don't grudge you anything you have made of the +transaction. Good-morning." And Mrs. John sailed away, resolved to +keep a sharp look-out on Mrs. Tom's "go to meeting" clothes, so as to +challenge any article of Calista's wardrobe on its first appearance. +She was disappointed, however.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tom's temper was sharpened as well as her wits by hard encounters +with adverse fortune, but, poor as she was, she would have scorned to +enrich herself at the expense of an orphan child. As to Miss Malvina, +she was so near heaven already that the richest things on earth and the +poorest looked equally small in her eyes.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>To the little Calista, the parting with her kind old guardian and +the long journey seemed like a dreary dream, from which she woke to +find herself an inmate of the old Stanfield house, creeping about by +herself, with no mates but the animals in the farmyard, slighted and +snubbed by her aunt, treated with a sort of surly kindness by Miss +Druett, her aunt's companion and confidante, and sometimes petted and +sometimes scolded by the two old servants whom Miss Stanfield still +retained.</p> + +<p>Sometimes it seemed to her that her present life was a dream, and that +she should wake up to find herself in Miss Malvina's little bed-room, +under that red-and-white coverlet wrought in gorgeous patterns of +long-tailed birds pecking at berries, which she used to follow out +with her little fingers. Sometimes the past grew dream-like, and she +thought she must always have lived is the old house, saying lessons +to Miss Druett and watching the two elderly ladies playing endless +games—cribbage one evening, backgammon the next—or slipping out to the +kitchen, when, if Chloe were in a good humor, she would contrive some +kind of treat for the child, and tell her stories of the past glories +of the family, and of her handsome father when he was a boy.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Under such influences Calista had grown up to the age of fifteen. About +that time she left off saying her lessons to Miss Druett, and began +going to an old-fashioned ladies' school in Cohansey, the chief town in +the neighborhood. In pleasant weather she walked; when it was wet or +stormy, she rode an elderly white pony named Jeff, or sometimes drove +him in a little old chaise which Miss Priscilla had taken on a debt.</p> + +<p>Calista believed she owed this change to Miss Druett, and was grateful +to that lady accordingly. She liked her school and her lessons, she was +friendly with the girls, and she had made one intimate friend in the +person of Mary Settson. Then, too, she had now and then an errand to +do for her aunt, and she often had a kind word and sometimes a little +present from old Mr. Settson, the lawyer, who had had charge of General +Stanfield's business, and took an interest in poor Richard's child.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER SECOND.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>SCHOOL.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CALISTA had not been religiously brought up. True, she attended church +once every Sunday with Miss Druett, sitting in the family pew in the +old brick church in Cohansey. At home the subject was never even +mentioned. Miss Priscilla never went to church, never read the Bible or +had family prayers, or asked a blessing at table, or acknowledged God +in any of her ways.</p> + +<p>Calista had found a ragged old Bible among some waste papers in the +garret, and sometimes read it for the stories when she was tired +of "Evelina" and the few odd volumes of "Camilla" and "Sir Charles +Grandison" of which she had become possessed in the same way. These +readings, the Sunday services, the prayers in school, and some faint +remembrance of Miss Malvina's teaching, kept the girl from utter +heathenism. Of personal religion, of any obligation on her own part to +a God or a Saviour, it is hardly an exaggeration to say Calista had no +more notion than her old white pony.</p> + +<p>She had a kind of attachment to Miss Druett, tempered by a good deal +of fear. She had begun by dreading Aunt Priscilla, and ended, I fear, +by hating her; but she was not naturally unamiable, and, as Miss +McPherson, the schoolmistress, observed, she had the making or marring +of a fine woman in her.</p> + +<p>"Calista!" called a somewhat harsh yet not altogether unpleasant voice, +with then a musical ring in it as of some neglected instrument. Then in +a moment—"Calista, do you mean to stand dreaming there all day? It is +time you were getting ready for school."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Druett," replied Calista, promptly; "I am all ready, and +there is plenty of time. Where are you going?" she asked, in surprise, +as Miss Druett appeared in the door with her bonnet on.</p> + +<p>"I am going to drive into town with you, so don't keep me waiting, +child."</p> + +<p>Calista skipped lightly up the ruined steps, which looked dangerous for +anything heavier than a goat to climb. As she reached the broad flat +stone at the top, it tilted a little under her tread.</p> + +<p>"Take care!" said Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"That stone will fall with somebody one of these days," said Calista. +"Why doesn't Aunt Priscilla have it mended?"</p> + +<p>"Little girls shouldn't ask questions," replied Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"I am not a little girl any longer!" said Calista, her color rising a +little. "I wish I were, and then my frocks would not all be so outgrown +that I am ashamed of them."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett deigned no answer to this remark, but Calista was used to +having her remarks remain unanswered. She hastened away, and presently +returned equipped in her school bonnet of gray batist a good deal +the worse for wear, and carrying in one hand her school books and in +the other a work-bag—every one carried a work-bag in those days—with +the ends of knitting needles sticking out. It would be hard to find +a handsomer girl in all Cohansey than Calista Stanfield, but she +certainly owed very little to her dress.</p> + +<p>"Where is Aunt Priscilla?" asked Calista, as she took her place in the +queer shaky little chaise where Miss Druett was already sitting.</p> + +<p>"In her room," was the reply. "She is out of sorts this morning, or she +would have gone to town herself."</p> + +<p>Calista said no more till they were out of sight of the house. Then she +began again.</p> + +<p>"Miss Druett, I do wish I could have some new frocks this spring. My +best frock, that blue bombazette, is ever so much too short, and mended +in three or four places. I declare I am ashamed to be seen; there is +not a servant girl in Cohansey who goes as shabby as I do."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett seemed to be fully occupied in driving a fly off the pony's +back, and did not answer a word.</p> + +<p>"Then my Sunday bonnet is a perfect fright. It is three years old, +and not the least like what any one else wears. And it is just so in +everything," continued Calista, with growing heat as she recounted her +wrongs. "I can never have a bit of pretty work like the other girls, or +have a bit of pocket-money, or any privileges as the rest do. I think +it is too bad."</p> + +<p>"What do you expect me to do about it?" asked Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"If aunt were as poor as Miss Malvina used to be, and had to work for +a living, I would never say a word," continued Calista. "I would work +hard, too, and earn my own clothes; but when she is so rich and laying +up money all the time, I do think it is a very hard case."</p> + +<p>"How do you know your aunt is laying up money all the time?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is always coming in and never going out," was the prompt +reply. "Don't you think I have eyes and ears, Miss Druett? Don't I know +that she gets the rents for her buildings in Philadelphia and Cohansey, +and for the farms she lets out, and the butter and hay, and so on? What +becomes of all that, if she does not lay it up?"</p> + +<p>"You had better ask her," rejoined Miss Druett. "And if you think the +servant girls are so much better off than yourself, you had better try +living out, and see how you like it."</p> + +<p>Calista's eyes flashed. "I declare I will!" said she, with sudden fire +and emphasis. "I will go to Mr. Settson this very day and ask him to +find me a place where I can work for my board and enough to clothe me. +At least I should have enough to eat, and not be taunted and insulted +every hour as I am now."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett turned her head and looked at Calista, who met the gaze +without flinching. She seemed to think matters had gone far enough.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, don't let me hear any such nonsense as that!" said she. +"If I should tell Priscilla she would turn you out of the house, and +never let you into it again."</p> + +<p>"Let her!" returned Calista. "I haven't had such very nice times there +that I should regret it very much."</p> + +<p>"Suppose your aunt had never taken you at all, do you know where you +would have been? You would have gone to the poor-house."</p> + +<p>"Well, suppose I had, what worse should I have been? I should have had +enough to eat and something to wear, and what more do I have now?"</p> + +<p>"You have your school for one thing."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know I do, thanks to you. You are good to me—sometimes."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett smiled in a curious, sudden fashion, with flash of white +teeth and a light in her dark gray eyes under black brows and lashes, +which gave quite a new aspect to her face.</p> + +<p>"Then if I am good to you—sometimes—have a little patience for the sake +of those times," said she. "Don't you think I would do more for you if +I could? As for the frocks, I know you need them, and I will see what +I can bring to pass; but don't you say a word about them to your aunt. +She is in one of her bad moods to-day. Here we are, I declare. Where +will you stop?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, at the school-house. I suppose I must walk home. I don't mind +though; it will be cool and pleasant after five o'clock."</p> + +<p>It wanted half an hour of school time, but Calista found Miss +McPherson's school-room filled with girls all talking together, as it +seemed. As she entered somebody said, laughing,—</p> + +<p>"Catch her giving anything. You might as well ask old Miss Stanfield +herself."</p> + +<p>"Hush," said two or three voices, and Calista felt sure they had been +talking of her.</p> + +<p>"Here is Calista," said one of the girls. "How early you are! Did you +walk?"</p> + +<p>"No, I rode in with Miss Druett. What are you all talking about?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, about this new plan for furnishing the parsonage house. Haven't +you heard?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word. How should I?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she hasn't," said Belle Adair. "Well, you know Mr. and Mrs. +Lee lost all their furniture when the old parsonage was burned."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. Every one knows that."</p> + +<p>"Well, the ladies of the congregation are going to furnish the new +parsonage from top to bottom with linen and everything needful, and +the young ladies—Miss Jessy McPherson and Miss Alice Settson and that +set—are going to hold a fair to buy some of the bed-room furniture."</p> + +<p>"A fair!" repeated Calista. "What kind of a fair? I don't know what you +mean."</p> + +<p>"Why, a kind of sale, like the one Miss Jessy attended in Philadelphia, +for the orphans. Don't you remember that she told us about it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! Well, what then?"</p> + +<p>"Well, the young ladies are going to have one, and they have asked us +school-girls to make things for one of the tables. Miss Jessy is to +have it in charge, and two or three of us are to help her. And we are +to make all sorts of pretty and useful things for sale, and find the +materials ourselves. And I know what I am going to make, but I don't +mean to tell anybody—not yet."</p> + +<p>All this explanation Belle delivered with great animation and a vast +amount of gesticulation, as her fashion was.</p> + +<p>"You will have to tell, if we meet together for work," observed one of +the girls. "And you know that was what we proposed—to meet with Miss +Jessy, Wednesday afternoon of each week."</p> + +<p>"To be sure, so we did. I did not think of that, but it don't matter."</p> + +<p>"I think the meeting will be half the fun, don't you, Calista?" said +little Emma Adair, Belle's cousin.</p> + +<p>But Calista was looking for something in her desk, and did not answer.</p> + +<p>"I think it is very nice—all of it—only I don't see how I am to do +anything, because I have no money," said Theresa Diaments. "Somehow my +allowance is always gone before I know it."</p> + +<p>"Because you spend it all," returned her cousin, Antoinette, who roomed +with her. "You never go out without buying something—pins, or thread, +or pencils. You buy ten bunches of hairpins to my one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! I dare say," remarked Belle, sarcastically enough. "We all +know how economical you are. Perhaps if you bought more pins, poor +Tessy would not need to buy so many."</p> + +<p>Antoinette colored deeply, and cast anything but an amiable glance at +the last speaker.</p> + +<p>"What will you do, Calista?" asked Belle.</p> + +<p>"How can I tell?" returned Calista. "I don't half understand the matter +yet. You are always in such a hurry, Belle. Where is Mary Settson?"</p> + +<p>"Here she comes,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +"'Sober, steadfast and demure,'—<br> +</p> + +<p>"As usual," said Belle. "What are you going to make for the fair, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't said I was going to make anything," replied Mary, looking +annoyed, for she was not pleased with Belle's quotation. "Come out a +minute, Calista; I want to tell you something. Oh, here comes Miss +McPherson to open school! Girls, what are you about? Don't you see?"</p> + +<p>All the girls rose—some of them in a little confusion—to greet +their schoolmistress. Miss McPherson was a tall Scotch lady, with +silvery-white hair put up under a matronly sort of lace cap, bright +eyes, and a somewhat commanding presence. She was handsomely dressed, +as usual, in her rich black silk and white muslin handkerchief, with a +large gold watch in her belt, to which were attached a bunch of seals +and a thick gold chain of Indian workmanship. This was her invariable +costume, except that in winter she wore a soft gray shawl. She was +followed by her niece, Miss Jessy McPherson, a slim lady, not quite so +young as she had been, but still pretty and blooming, and dressed with +much more regard to the fashion than her aunt. Another teacher entered +by the opposite door, and the three took their places on the platform +at one end of the room. Miss Jessy read part of a chapter in the New +Testament, Miss McPherson made a short prayer, and then the lessons +were begun.</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson had been educated at one of the best schools in +Edinburgh, and finished at a Scotch convent in Paris. She had come +to America with her father at the close of the revolution. Captain +McPherson sold out his commission in the army and bought land in New +Jersey, hoping to make an estate for his daughter; but his farming was +not very successful, and he soon died. Miss McPherson, as soon as the +first desolation of her loss was over, began to look about her to see +what she was to do.</p> + +<p>She was not long in deciding. She sold the land which she could not +cultivate, bought a house in the growing town of Cohansey, and set up +a ladies' school. She taught French and Italian thoroughly—though, it +must be owned, with something of a Scotch accent—needle work, plain +and ornamental, flower work, feather work, and numberless other works. +She also taught the then popular art of reading, writing and spelling +the English language correctly by the aid of Mr. Lindley Murray's +"Grammar," * and some geography and history by the aid of Mr. Pinnock's +"Catechisms." She also taught—and that without extra charge—very +excellent manners and sound religion and morality, so that her school +might be considered a good one, though metaphysics formed no part of +its course, and even such an elementary and old-fashioned book as "Mrs. +B.'s Conversations on Chemistry" had never entered its walls.</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<br> +* I have seen an old school prospectus in which was advertised "The +English grammar taught by Mr. Lindley Murray's new method, with three +cases only."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson prospered, or, as she would have preferred to say, "was +prospered," from the first. She was soon enabled to enlarge her house, +take a few boarders, and send for her orphan niece, Miss Jessy, who was +earning a hard living as a governess in the north of England.</p> + +<p>At the time of which I am writing, Miss McPherson had twelve young lady +boarders and twenty-five day scholars, and was believed to be a rich +woman. She was greatly respected in the community, and was one of the +first persons consulted in any charitable or social enterprise. She +subscribed liberally to the church, where her young ladies occupied +three pews all to themselves. She had been one of the first to propose +the building of the new parsonage house, and had given a good sum +towards it; and she was indeed a very important person in Cohansey +society.</p> + +<p>When the lessons were through, she tapped on her desk for attention.</p> + +<p>"Now, young ladies, I want you to listen to me!" said she, in her +clear, round tones. "Maria Reese, where are your hands and feet?"</p> + +<p>Maria's hands and feet had a way of being in the wrong place, and on +this occasion the hands were behind her back, and one foot was twisted +round the leg of her chair. Blushing scarlet, she laid her hands in her +lap, straightened up her shoulders, and drew in her chin.</p> + +<p>"That is much better!" said Miss McPherson. She cast a vigilant eye +over the room, and, seeing nothing more to criticise, proceeded with +her remarks.</p> + +<p>"No doubt you have all been discussing this plan of a fair or sale to +help in furnishing the house of our respected minister."</p> + +<p>She paused a moment, and Clarissa Whitecar, as the oldest girl, +answered for the rest,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I cannot say," continued Miss McPherson, "that the scheme +is one which I should have proposed myself. I prefer more direct ways +of accomplishing good works. However, I am aware that something is +to be said on the other side. Such a method as the present promotes +sociability, and it also affords an opportunity for those have not much +money to bestow, to give their time and their work,—it makes room for +self-denial, without which no good work is ever accomplished, and also +for the exercise of latent neatness and ingenuity. I have considered +the matter, and have also consulted with some of the respected parents +and guardians of my pupils," continued Miss McPherson, after another +little pause; "and I have come to the conclusion—Charity Latch, are you +a lady or a pincushion?"</p> + +<p>The young person thus addressed, a tall, overgrown-looking girl, +started violently, and hastily removed from her mouth the brass pin +with which she was furtively picking her teeth. Charity was one of +those people who never see any deficiency in themselves, and therefore +never improve.</p> + +<p>"I said that I have come to the conclusion to allow the young ladies to +devote the hours of afternoon school on Wednesday to working for this +object, under certain rules and restrictions, which must be remembered, +as I shall allow no departure from them.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "First. Every young lady must provide her own working implements.<br> +<br> + "Second. Every piece of work must be commenced subject to the approval +of myself or Miss Jessy, who will preside in my absence.<br> +<br> + "Third. Every piece of work once commenced must be perfectly finished +before anything else is begun. This rule is invariable.<br> +<br> + "Fourth. Any young lady must be ready to do her work over again, +cheerfully and without complaint, if Miss Jessy or myself thinks it +needful.<br> +<br> + "Fifth. There must be no borrowing from one another without special +consent of your teacher for the time being.<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"These are all the rules I see fit to make, though I shall not hesitate +to add others if I see occasion; but I wish to add a word of advice. +Remember that in such a work as this, and done, as this ought to be, +for the praise and glory of God, there is no place for anything like +emulation or vainglory. Let each do the best she can in whatever she +undertakes, and remember that the smallest and cheapest offering given +in the right spirit is as acceptable as the most elaborate and costly +in the eyes of Him for whom this work is, or should be, done."</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson said these words with great earnestness, and smiled as +she saw their effect in the suddenly raised eyes and brightened face of +a plain and rather poorly-dressed girl who sat near the desk.</p> + +<p>"And now the young ladies may take a recess,—" recess she called it, in +her Scotch way,—"unless they have any questions to ask."</p> + +<p>"If you please, Miss McPherson," said Mary Settson, rising—</p> + +<p>"Well, Mary—take time now and consider your words."</p> + +<p>"Suppose one of us wishes to make something for the furnishing of the +house instead of something for the sale, can we do so?"</p> + +<p>"Can she do so?" corrected the schoolmistress. "Let your pronouns +agree with their antecedents, my love. Yes, certainly, there can be no +objection to that."</p> + +<p>"Do you think it would be better to make fancy articles or useful +things?" asked another girl.</p> + +<p>"I should say a judicious mixture would be best, and in any case it +would be well to avoid making your articles too costly. You can settle +all these matters in your first meeting, which will take place on +Wednesday at the usual time of afternoon school. I must add one thing: +If I find these meetings are having an unfavorable effect on your +lessons, or tending to produce heart-burning, envy, or unkindness, I +shall stop the whole thing at once. You can now take your recess, which +will be ten minutes longer than usual."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER THIRD.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>AUNT BETSY.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE girls were soon in the spacious play-ground, but to-day neither +skipping-rope nor battle-door had attractions for any but the younger +children. Every tongue was busy with the new plan, which was talked +over in all its bearings. Pincushions and needle work, satin stitch and +cross stitch, rug work, cut work, flowers, veils, ruffles, knitting, +and netting, all were discussed at once.</p> + +<p>"I shall work a piece," said Antoinette, with decision. "I saw a lovely +one at my cousin's, in Greenwich—a shepherdess, with her crook, and +some sheep and lambs, with their wool all done in French knots with +white chenille and gray floss. The shepherdess has on a blue silk gown +with real gold spangles. Oh, it is lovely!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and so sweetly natural—a blue silk spangled gown to tend sheep +in!" said Belle Adair. "I wonder they did not spangle the sheep too: it +would have been about as sensible."</p> + +<p>"Just as if that had anything to do with it!" rejoined Antoinette, +scornfully. "Any how, I am going to do it—if Miss Jessy will let me, I +mean."</p> + +<p>"But that will take so long, and be so expensive," remarked Tessy; "and +if it should not sell after all, you will lose your labor."</p> + +<p>"No, I sha'n't, because I should have the picture anyhow, and as for +money, I have all my last quarter's allowance."</p> + +<p>"Then you can pay me the three shillings you borrowed of me the last +time the peddler was here," said Tessy. "I want some money, and I +haven't a bit."</p> + +<p>"I haven't any change," returned Antoinette, "and I don't want to break +a bill for such a little thing as that."</p> + +<p>"You never do have any change, do you, Antoinette?" asked Belle Adair, +innocently. Then, as Antoinette did not answer: "If I were you, Tessy, +I wouldn't have any change either."</p> + +<p>"Well, she does get all my change away," said poor Tessy, half crying, +as Antoinette walked away. "She is always saying, 'Oh, Tessy, just lend +me a penny,' or 'Just let me have a sixpence, will you?' But if I ask +her for anything, she never has it. It is just so with other things. +She uses my pins, and needles, and hairpins, so that half the time I +don't have any for myself, and then Miss Meeks scolds me, and says, +'Look at Antoinette, she is never unprovided.' Good reason why she +isn't."</p> + +<p>"You must just learn to say no," said Belle Adair.</p> + +<p>"But it seems so mean to refuse such little things."</p> + +<p>"It is not so mean to refuse as it is to be sponging for little +things," returned Belle, with some justice; "and that is what +Antoinette is always doing. The other day, when she began her bead +chain, she came to me to know if I had any thread. I told her I had, +but did not offer to lend her any. Then she asked me for it straight +out, and I told her I wanted my thread myself, and that Miss Jessy had +plenty."</p> + +<p>"But you gave me a whole nice skein that very day," observed little +Emma.</p> + +<p>"Yes, because I knew you would pay me, and I did not want you to get +into disgrace for forgetting. You are not a sponge, though you are a +heedless little puss, and want your ears pinched every day," and Belle +suited the action to the word by administering a gentle pinch to the +little rosy ear.</p> + +<p>"If she would only ask, I wouldn't care so much," said Tessy, "but she +just helps herself to anything of mine she wants."</p> + +<p>"Well, I know what I would do if I were you," said Emma. "I wouldn't +have any money."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Emma?" asked Tessy.</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss McPherson gives you your allowance every month, doesn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course."</p> + +<p>"Well, I would ask her to keep it for me, and just go to her when I +wanted any money to use. Then when Antoinette wants to borrow, you can +tell her the truth, that you haven't any. Besides, you won't be nearly +so apt to spend money if you have to ask Miss McPherson every time; and +you know, Tessy, you are rather extravagant," concluded Emma, with a +quaint little air of wisdom.</p> + +<p>"But perhaps Miss McPherson won't want to be troubled," objected Tessy.</p> + +<p>"She won't mind, if you tell her the reason why. Of course you need not +mention Antoinette, but you can just say that you know you are apt to +throw away your money, and you want to save it for a special purpose."</p> + +<p>"What a wise young woman—'a Daniel come to judgment!'" said Belle, who +had been reading Shakespeare.</p> + +<p>"But really, Tessy, I think this plan an excellent one. Antoinette +should not be indulged in such ways, if only for her own sake. If she +were poor, it would be different, but I imagine her father is quite as +rich as yours."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. Well, Emma, I believe I will try this plan of yours. But +what shall I do in the mean time? I thought I would knit some curtains, +but I haven't even money to buy the cotton."</p> + +<p>"You say Antoinette owes you three shillings?"</p> + +<p>"She owes me four and sixpence in all."</p> + +<p>"Trust to me, Tessy. I'll get it out of her. She is a little too bad."</p> + +<p>Meantime Calista and her friend, Mary Settson, were walking up and down +under the trees at one side of the play-ground. Calista's black brows +were frowning, and she looked vexed and mortified.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had never come to school at all," said she, vehemently. +"Something is always coming up to make we feel what a miserable, +dependent wretch I am."</p> + +<p>"Don't use such words, Calista," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"They are true words, and why shouldn't I use them?"</p> + +<p>"But don't you believe your aunt will let you do anything? I should +think she would give you a little money if you ask her in the right +time and way."</p> + +<p>"Much you know about it. I tell you, Mary, I might just as well expect +gold to rain down out of that cloud. The cloud will give me a wetting +when I go home, and Aunt Priscilla will give me a scolding, and that is +all I shall get from either of them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot," said Mary. "Papa asked Miss Druett to let you stay all +night with us, and she said you might. So we will have a good time, and +I will teach you to knit the feather stitch that Miss Jessy showed me."</p> + +<p>Calista's frown relaxed a little. "Your father is very kind, I am sure; +but, Mary, I declare I am ashamed to go."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"My frock is so shabby for one thing, and you and Miss Alice are always +so neat."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"And besides, you are always inviting me, and I never can ask you."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Mary again. "Just as if we did not know how things +were. I am glad, because I think perhaps papa will contrive some way to +help us out of this scrape."</p> + +<p>Calista shook her head. "You don't know Aunt Priscilla as I do. Why, +Mary, grandfather's monument is actually falling down for want of a +little money laid out in repairs. I haven't much reason to be obliged +to General Stanfield," continued Calista, rather as if thinking aloud, +"but I believe the very first thing I do when I have the place will be +to put that graveyard in order."</p> + +<p>Mary looked annoyed in her turn.</p> + +<p>"I would not think so much about that if I were you, Calista," said +she. "You are not sure that the place will ever be yours. Miss +Priscilla can leave it to whom she pleases, you know."</p> + +<p>"What would you think about it if you were in my place?" demanded +Calista, rather fiercely. "Come, Mary, tell me something agreeable in +my affairs to think about."</p> + +<p>"Well, here is the school and Miss McPherson."</p> + +<p>"Miss McPherson is just as good and kind as she can be," admitted +Calista, "and the school is pleasant, and I like my lessons; but even +here Aunt Priscilla annoys me all the time. Something is forever coming +up to remind me how dependent and helpless I am. Aunt Priscilla won't +let me have a bit of fancy work, or take music lessons, or have a penny +to spend on any of the girls' little frolics."</p> + +<p>"Was that the reason you did not go to the gipsy party?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it was. I had nothing to carry."</p> + +<p>"But, Calista, you know—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know. Miss Alice would have made something for me, but I +wouldn't have that. I may be a pauper, but I won't be a beggar and a +sponge like—some folks," casting a glance, as she spoke, at Antoinette, +who was passing.</p> + +<p>"Well, any how, Calista, you can make the most of what lessons you +have, and when you are a little older you can find a place as teacher +somewhere and support yourself. And, besides," said Mary, lowering +her voice a little, "you might have something else if you would. You +might be looking forward to an inheritance that would never fade nor +disappoint you."</p> + +<p>Calista made an impatient movement.</p> + +<p>"So you say, and I believe you really think so, but all that is nothing +to me. It has no reality in it to my mind. Aunt Priscilla does not +believe in any such thing. She believes in the French philosophers, and +Voltaire and Rousseau are about the only authors she reads."</p> + +<p>"And you have a great respect for Miss Priscilla's opinion, of course," +returned Mary, with a little touch of sarcasm. "It is quite natural you +should be governed by it."</p> + +<p>Calista laughed. "It would be a reason for thinking the other way if I +wanted one, which I don't. But somehow religion has no reality for me. +I wouldn't have Miss McPherson hear me say so, but it is no more real +to me than the Greek mythology in Magnall's questions."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that is the way with a good many people, if they had the +honesty to own it," remarked Mary, thoughtfully; "at least to judge by +their actions. But now tell me, Calista, are not all your best friends +Christians? I have often heard you speak of Miss Malvina; was not she a +Christian?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed she was, dear old soul!"</p> + +<p>"And is not Miss McPherson one, and Miss Jessy, and my father, and +Alice?"</p> + +<p>"Very true, my dear, not to mention yourself. As to Miss Druett, if any +one can tell what she is, they must be wiser than I am."</p> + +<p>"Miss Druett is good to you, isn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in a kind of way. She is so sharp and sarcastic that she puts +me in a rage ten times a week; but everything good that I get comes +through her."</p> + +<p>"Well, wouldn't she do something for you in this matter?"</p> + +<p>"Very likely she would if she could, but she can't. I told her this +morning that I wanted some new frocks, and she said she would get me +some if possible, but that I must not speak to Aunt Priscilla about it. +I tell you, Mary, you have no idea what she is in one of her bad moods. +It is like living with a wild animal or an evil spirit."</p> + +<p>"The more reason why you should qualify yourself to earn your own +living as soon as possible. But there is the bell. By the way, will you +go to Aunt Hannah's with me after school? I have to carry her a message +about the towels she is weaving for Alice."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah Parvin and her sister, Aunt Betsy, lived in a curious old +wooden house on the outskirts of the town.</p> + +<p>"Come in, come in," said Aunt Betsy. "I suppose, Mary, thee has come +about the yarn; and who is this with thee? I ought to know her, but I +can't call her by name."</p> + +<p>"Surely it is Richard Stanfield's daughter," said Aunt Hannah, +appearing at the door. "I never saw a greater likeness between a father +and child. Come in, children. I have been expecting thee, Mary."</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah, though the younger of the two old ladies, was much the +most staid and precise in her appearance. Her plain gray gown, made in +the simplest fashion, was without a wrinkle; her muslin handkerchief +and close cap white as snow. She was very pretty with the exquisite +delicacy of complexion which "Friends" are so apt to possess and +preserve—thanks to their shady, sensible headgear. Her hair, with still +a golden shine in it here and there, lay in satin-like bands over her +serene forehead, and her large gray eyes looked like the very abode of +peace.</p> + +<p>Aunt Betsy's hair, on the contrary, would wave, and crinkle, and break +away into rebellious little curls round her face and under her cap; her +dress, though spotlessly clean, was worn with quite a different air +from her sister's, and her complexion showed traces of free exposure to +the sun.</p> + +<p>"Sister Betsy, how thee is burned with the sun!" said Aunt Hannah, in a +tone of mild reproof. "Why won't thee keep thy sunbonnet on?"</p> + +<p>"Because I can't see as well with it, Sister Hannah, and, besides, I +like to feel the sun. What does it matter for an old woman like me?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah sighed gently. "Well, Betsy, thee will always be thyself to +the end."</p> + +<p>"Would thee want me to be any one else, Hannah?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah smiled, and turned to the girls.</p> + +<p>"I suppose, Mary, thee has come about the towels. Has Alice decided +upon the pattern?"</p> + +<p>"No, Aunt Hannah; she told me to say she would leave it to you, and +then she should be sure to like it."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I will bring down all my patterns for you both to look at, +and meantime my sister will find you some refreshments."</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said the elder lady. "I had a notion thee would come +to-day, Mary, and so I baked a sweet-potato pie and some gingerbread. +Just sit down and take your bonnets off. Oh, yes, of course you will +stay to tea. Alice won't mind, Mary. She knows I always keep thee to +tea."</p> + +<p>The girls suffered themselves to be persuaded, and laying aside their +bonnets, they sat down by the open window, while Aunt Betsy set her +table and brought out her beautiful old china—a set of thin "blue and +white," which would set any modern "Ceramical Club" into a fever of +rapture.</p> + +<p>"What pretty china!" said Calista, admiring the egg-shell cups and the +sugar-basin with its gilt pineapples.</p> + +<p>"Why, thy folks have some just like it, or ought to have," said +Aunt Betsy. "I remember thy mother—I mean thy grandmother—bought a +set in Philadelphia the very day I bought this. Dear, dear! What a +pretty creature she was, and how the old General doted on her and her +curly-headed boy! Poor Richard!"</p> + +<p>"You knew my father then," said Calista, much interested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. I knew all thy family. Thy grandma used often to come and +see me and bring thy father, when he was a little boy. She had him in +very good order too, but after she was gone, thy grandfather never +controlled him. Hannah often used to tell the old gentleman he was +wrong to indulge the child so. I well remember the very last time the +General was here. He had stopped one day some weeks before and spoken +about Richard, how he had disappointed him; and says Hannah—thee sees +she is never afraid to say what she thinks right—says she,—</p> + +<p>"'Richard Stanfield, is thee going to cast off thy son because he is +what thy indulgence has made him? Where is the justice of that?'</p> + +<p>"'There is something in what you say, Hannah,' said he. 'I'll just +think it over.'</p> + +<p>"Some three or four weeks after, he was just coming home from a +journey, and he stopped again, and says he,—</p> + +<p>"'Well, Hannah, I have done justice to poor Dick, I think. I have +altered my will, and left the old place to him, and to his children if +he has any.'"</p> + +<p>"Then grandfather did leave the place to my father after all!" said +Calista, her eyes flashing and her color changing, as it was apt to do +under any excitement.</p> + +<p>"He certainly said so—I am quite sure of that," said Aunt Betsy. "I +suppose he must have altered his will again, or Miss Priscilla would +not have come into everything. Sometimes I have thought maybe she only +has the care of the place till thee comes of age. Thee never heard thy +father say anything about it I suppose, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Mary. "Only he said once, he hoped Calista would make the +most of her schooling, so as to be independent by and by."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but that might have meant that he wished her to be able to look +after her own property," argued Aunt Betsy. "I suppose Priscilla never +tells thee anything about it, Calista."</p> + +<p>"Not she!" answered Calista. "She never speaks to me at all if she can +help it."</p> + +<p>"Priscilla is peculiar—she always was; but no doubt she means to do +right, though she always did sit too close to the world," observed +Aunt Hannah, who had come down just in time to hear the end of the +conversation; "she was very closely and strictly kept by her mother, +and I suppose she thinks it is the best way."</p> + +<p>"I was telling Calista about what her grandfather said the last time he +was here," observed Aunt Betsy, as she set a jug of rich cream on the +table.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't think too much about it, Calista," said Aunt Hannah, +looking a little annoyed.</p> + +<p>"But grandfather did say that—I mean, that he had given the old place +to my father and his children?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, there is no doubt of that; but I suspect he altered matters +afterwards."</p> + +<p>"He hadn't much time to alter them, for he died in a few days," said +Aunt Betsy. "I remember it well. I went out that very afternoon wetting +down some linen I had bleaching on the grass, when I saw Cassius, your +grandfather's servant, riding by as hard as he could go on the old gray.</p> + +<p>"'Anything the matter, Cassius?' says I.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' says he, 'the old gentleman's taken very bad. I believe myself +he's dead!' says he, and the tears rolled down his black face, for he +was very fond of his master; 'but, anyhow, I'm going for the doctor.'</p> + +<p>"Presently I saw old Doctor Elsmore riding by, and the next thing I +heard the old gentleman was dead, sure enough. Don't thee remember, +Hannah? Thee said,—</p> + +<p>"'Well, I am glad I freed my mind to him, anyhow.'"</p> + +<p>"I remember," said Hannah.</p> + +<p>"Was that before I was born?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Thee must have been—let's see. How old is thee now?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be sixteen in July."</p> + +<p>"Then thee must have been about four years old when thy grandfather +died."</p> + +<p>"We won't talk about it any more," said Aunt Hannah, interposing with a +glance of gentle authority at her sister. "Doubtless it was all ordered +for the best."</p> + +<p>"I just want to ask one question," said Calista. "What became of +Cassius? Is he dead?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no. I saw him last week. He was a careful fellow, and had saved +money, and after his master's death, he bought quite a piece of new +land on the river road, near the house thy grandfather gave him. Thee +must have seen the place—a low, broad house, with a very large thorny +acacia growing over it."</p> + +<p>"I have never been over that road," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"No! Well, I wonder at that! It is a very little longer than this, but +much pleasanter, especially in summer, though it is rather lonely."</p> + +<p>"So that is the reason aunt told me not to go by the river road," +thought Calista. "I declare I will the very next time I drive home."</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah again interposed with her bundle of patterns, and the +subject was dropped.</p> + +<p>But, as they were returning home, Calista adverted to it again.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose, Mary, that the place really was left to me, and that +Aunt Priscilla is keeping me out of it?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Nary; "I am quite sure I have heard my father say that +nobody knew Mr. Stanfield had a child, till Miss Druett brought you +home. But if you want to know about the matter, you had better ask +father himself. Only, Calista, if I were you, I would try not to think +so much about money. If you are not careful, you will come to be as +fond of it as poor Miss Priscilla herself."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I am fond of money," said Calista, looking a little +offended.</p> + +<p>"But you do think about it a great deal, Calista; you cannot deny that."</p> + +<p>"And wouldn't you if you were in my place?"</p> + +<p>"I should be tempted to, no doubt," said Mary, honestly; "but I should +try not to give way to it, because I should not feel it right."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because covetousness is sin," returned Mary. "The Bible says +covetousness is idolatry (Col. 3:5); and speaks of 'the covetous, whom +God abhorreth' (Ps. 10:3); and our Lord himself bids us 'take heed, +and beware of covetousness: for a man's life consisteth not in the +abundance of the things which he possesseth' (Luke 12:15). Moreover, +we are told not to love the world, neither the things which are in the +world, because if any man love the world, the love of the Father is not +in him (1 John 2:15)."</p> + +<p>"If you were in my place, you couldn't help thinking about it," +persisted Calista, "any more than you could help thinking about food if +you didn't have enough to eat."</p> + +<p>"I suppose Miss Priscilla thinks she can't help it either."</p> + +<p>"I am much obliged to you, Mary, for comparing me to Miss Priscilla!" +said Calista, with offended stiffness. "I didn't know, before, what a +good opinion you had of me."</p> + +<p>"Now you are unreasonable, Calista, and I sha'n't answer you."</p> + +<p>"But about this matter of grandfather's will: do you think it is +unreasonable in me to want to know the truth about it?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't, especially after what you have heard, and if I were you, +I would ask papa; only, Calista, don't build upon it."</p> + +<p>But Calista could not help building upon it. She had no opportunity of +asking Judge Settson about the matter, for company came in to spend the +evening, and the next day he was called away out of town. But Calista +held firmly to her purpose.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER FOURTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>CASSIUS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE school was closed rather earlier than usual next day, and Calista +walked home. She hesitated for a moment when she came to the place +where the two roads divided, and then took the lower road, which +ran near the bank of the river, and a good deal of the way through +oak-scrub and deserted clearings. Calista had been used to walking to +and from the village alone for half a dozen years, but it cannot be +denied that she felt a little nervous as she went on for one stretch of +the road after another, meeting nobody and seeing no human habitation. +What if she should meet with wild hogs or cattle? Or, worse still, with +some of the more than half-wild "pine rats," who were to be found here +and there in the wilderness which thus stretched a great part of the +way from Cohansey River to the Atlantic Ocean.</p> + +<p>"Pshaw, what a goose I am!" she said to herself impatiently, as she +found herself starting at a sudden rustle in the bushes. "I haven't +anything worth stealing, and I don't believe any one would want to hurt +me."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless she felt a thrill of uncomfortable fear as a man pushed +his way through the bushes, carrying a gun and followed by a large dog, +and she was not a little relieved when the new-comer proved to be a +negro, who touched his hat civilly as he said good-afternoon.</p> + +<p>"This is the road to the Mills, is it not?" asked Calista, returning +the old man's greeting.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss, this is one road." Then, as he walked along by her side, he +said, with a little hesitation, "Beg pardon, Missy, but isn't this the +old General Stanfield's grandchild?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am General Stanfield's grandchild, the daughter of Mr. Richard +Stanfield. Did you know my father?"</p> + +<p>"Reckon I did," said the man, taking off his hat and bowing again. +"Many's the time I've rode your pa on my back, and took him out fishing +on the creek. I was with your grandpa through great part of the old +war, and all the time afterward till he died. He was a fine old +gentleman, and I wouldn't never have left him, but I couldn't run with +Miss Priscy after he was gone; so I bought a piece of land and set up +farming for myself."</p> + +<p>"And how do you get on?" asked Calista, much interested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, first-rate," answered Cassius, cheerfully. "We's had our ups and +downs, of course. I've been laid up with the rheumatiz some, and the +old woman has her poor spells, but we rub on. I sell a good deal of +truck in the village; and we keep lots of chickens, and ducks, and +geese. Then I fish and shoot some in the season—I've got a real nice +boat—and altogether we make out to lay up a little against the hour of +need. For the rest, why we has food and raiment, and we's learned to be +therewith content, as the good Book says."</p> + +<p>"Have you any children?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"Only two boys, Missy. They's both doing well; one's living out in +Princeton, and one in Philadelphia; both in nice gentlemen's families. +We had two nice girls, but the Lord took them both. His will be done." +And the old man lifted his hat again.</p> + +<p>"That was hard on you," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it did seem hard, Missy; but He knew best. I tell my old woman +they's just as much ours as ever they was, only the Lord's keeping them +for us. Won't you stop in a minute and see Sally? She'll be dreadful +glad to see you."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I ought not to stop to-night, Cassius," replied Calista, +looking, with rather longing eyes, at the neat little house, where +stood Sally in the cleanest of turban handkerchiefs and aprons, +curtseying, and showing her white teeth in a smile of welcome. "But +I mean to come and see you some time. I should like to hear about my +father."</p> + +<p>Sally was not to be cheated, however. She came down to the gate to +speak to Calista; gave her a handful of lilies-of-the-valley, from her +neat flower garden, and insisted on filling her basket with delicate, +fresh-baked ginger-nuts, which Calista would have refused.</p> + +<p>"Please do take 'em, Missy," said Sally. "I know young ladies is fond +of ginger-nuts, and it ain't every one that can make 'em like me, +though I say it that shouldn't."</p> + +<p>She emptied her plate into Calista's basket, and then said something +in an undertone to her husband, of which Calista only caught the words +"Old Zeke."</p> + +<p>"I'm a-going," said Cassius.</p> + +<p>"Well, Missy, I won't urge you to stay, as it's growing late; and young +ladies of good family shouldn't ought to be out in lonesome places +after sundown. I've got to go your way a piece, so I'll just see you +past the woods."</p> + +<p>"What did Sally say?" asked Calista, as they walked on together.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she was speaking about an old fellow that hangs about here +sometimes; they call him Old Zeke. I don't really suppose he'd do you +any harm; but he's a rough customer, and might scare you. And if you'll +excuse the freedom, Missy, I wouldn't come this way unless you are +driving. It's rather too lonesome a road for a young lady; and some +of these pine rats is apt to be hanging round, fishing or something. +There's Zeke now. Don't be scared, Missy, he won't hurt you."</p> + +<p>Calista looked up, and as she confronted the old man, she was glad she +had not encountered him alone.</p> + +<p>He was a very tall and powerful man, a good deal bent, with a shock +of grizzled hair that fell on his shoulders, and shaggy brows, under +which looked out a pair of fierce light-blue eyes. He was dressed in +an indescribable mass of rags and tatters; but over his shoulder he +carried a good, serviceable looking gun.</p> + +<p>"Evening, Zeke," said Cassius, good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>The old man returned a surly sort of nod, and honored Calista with a +fixed stare, which lasted till a turn of the road hid him from sight.</p> + +<p>"That's a queer old fellow," said Calista. "I am glad I did not meet +him alone."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't reckon he would have hurt you—indeed, I can't say as he +ever hurt any one; but he is a queer body, as you say, Missy, and his +wife is queerer still, if all tales are true. The folks round here do +say that they know more than they've got any business to."</p> + +<p>"More about what?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they say the old folks are in league with spirits and that they +know how to find treasures, and lost money, and so on."</p> + +<p>"I should not think they could have found much, to judge from his +appearance," said Calista.</p> + +<p>Cassius laughed. "Well, you can't always tell from the outside who +has money and who hasn't, but I believe it is true that they do spend +a good deal of time seeking for the money that folks say the pirates +buried along the creek here in the time of the old French war. Old Mrs. +Tyerson began talking to me about it one day, but says I,—</p> + +<p>"'You go along with your pirates and their money. Suppose'n you did +find it, 'twould be bloody gold, and never bring you nothing but ill +luck,' says I. 'Don't covet an evil covetousness to your house, Sister +Tyerson,' says I. 'Let Old Zeke and his spells alone. I don't want his +money. I've got enough to eat and drink and wear, and something to give +to my Master besides, and when you've got that, it ain't money, nor the +want of money, that makes folks well off or bad off,' says I."</p> + +<p>"But money is a good thing," said Calista, struck with the old man's +remarks.</p> + +<p>"It is a good thing when it comes with the blessing of God, and in the +right way, Missy," said Cassius, solemnly. "So is everything else. +But when it comes any other way, it is nothing but a curse and a +judgment. Well, here we are within sight of the house, so I'll bid you +good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, and thank you, Cassius. I shall come and see you again +some time when I have the horse."</p> + +<p>Calista hastened homeward, and entering at the back door, ran up +stairs to her room without meeting any one. She hid away her basket of +ginger-nuts in a safe place, brushed her hair, and went down stairs.</p> + +<p>"Now for it!" said she as she put her hand on the lock of the parlor +door. "I wonder what kind of mood she is in?"</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla and Miss Druett had apparently just taken their seats at +the tea-table.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla was a small, delicate woman, with a trim, upright +figure, reddish-brown hair, hardly touched with gray, and greenish +hazel eyes. She was dressed neatly, though with the utmost plainness, +and would have been pretty but for her eager, suspicious expression, +and the nervous restlessness of her eyes, which seemed not to be still +for a moment. As Aunt Chloe said, Priscilla looked as if she saw +ghosts, or was afraid she should see them. Her greeting to Calista was +characteristic.</p> + +<p>"Well, what has brought you home now? I didn't expect to see you +till after supper. You would have had plenty of time to walk home +afterwards."</p> + +<p>"She is late enough as it is," observed Miss Druett, not unkindly. "Get +yourself a plate, Calista; Chloe has not provided one for you."</p> + +<p>Calista did not answer either observation. She brought herself a plate +and knife, accepted the cup of tea Miss Druett handed her, and helped +herself to a slice of bread and some butter. A small dish of fried fish +stood at Miss Priscilla's plate, and there was nothing else on the +table.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be bashful!" said Miss Priscilla, in a bitterly sarcastic +tone. "Take all the butter on the plate, do. Perhaps you would like +some of my fish?"</p> + +<p>A spark of fun gleamed in Calista's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, aunt; since you are so kind, I won't hurt your feelings +by refusing. My walk has given me an appetite." And she coolly helped +herself to the smallest of the fish.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla looked helplessly irritated at seeing herself taken at +her word, and regaining possession of the dish, she hastily set it on +the other side of her plate.</p> + +<p>Miss Druett suppressed a smile, and shook her head at Calista.</p> + +<p>"Well, and what is going on in town?" asked Miss Druett, presently. +"Haven't you any news to tell us?"</p> + +<p>"There is a good deal going on in one way," said Calista. "The ladies +are all very busy about this fair for furnishing the new parsonage +house."</p> + +<p>"Rubbish!" said Miss Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"The girls are all going to work for it," continued Calista. "Miss +McPherson gives them Wednesday afternoon, and they are each to make +something for the sale."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Miss Priscilla, with an unusually polite display of +interest, "that seems a very nice plan of Miss McPherson's. I suppose +she furnishes the materials?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she furnishes the materials for most of the girls' work. She +buys all their silks and crewels, and so on, in Philadelphia."</p> + +<p>"And makes a good profit on them, no doubt. Trust a Scotch woman for +that."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how that is," replied Calista. "She wanted Mr. Clapp to +keep fine working materials, but he said the profit was not worth the +risk and trouble. He does keep netting, thread, and silk, and a few +other things."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Miss Priscilla, again; "and what part do you intend to take +in this notable display of industry and charity?"</p> + +<p>Calista made no answer, but passed her cup for some more tea.</p> + +<p>"One cup of tea is enough for a girl like you," said Miss Priscilla. +"Do you hear me, Druey? I say one cup is enough."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" was the reply. "Let the child have her tea. I am sure it is +not strong enough to hurt her."</p> + +<p>And she coolly filled the cup and returned it to Calista.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well; of course it is for you to say. Perhaps, Miss Calista +Stanfield, you will condescend to answer my question. What part are you +intending to take in this matter?"</p> + +<p>"That is for you to say, Aunt Priscilla," replied Calista, in unruffled +good humor. "You know very well that I have nothing of my own. I +thought if I had some fine knitting cotton, I might knit a bureau +cover, or something of that sort."</p> + +<p>"Oh! And how much might this same fine knitting cotton cost?"</p> + +<p>"About a quarter of a dollar, I suppose; perhaps thirty or forty cents."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed! Then I can tell you, Miss Calista Stanfield, you will +have no twenty-five or thirty cents to spend on any such purpose. +Twenty-five or thirty cents, indeed! Why not ask at once for +twenty-five or thirty dollars?"</p> + +<p>"I might about as well, I suppose," said Calista. "I should not have +mentioned the matter at all if you had not asked me."</p> + +<p>"Don't be pert, miss. I suppose you want to show off your charity at my +expense; but you must make up mind to be mortified for once."</p> + +<p>"For once!" thought Calista. But she said, cheerfully: "Oh, it won't +mortify me at all, Aunt Priscilla. All the girls will know that it is +your doing and not mine, and so will every one else."</p> + +<p>"You might let the child have a little money for once," said Miss +Druett.</p> + +<p>"Money indeed! You talk as if I were made of money!" said Miss +Priscilla. "Money to furnish the parsonage! Let Mr. Lee furnish his own +parsonage. Money indeed! Money!"</p> + +<p>The party relapsed into silence, which was maintained till Chloe came +to take the tea-things.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla, with her own hands, carefully removed some +infinitesimal particles of butter from the plates and replaced them on +the dish.</p> + +<p>"There is enough for your supper and David's," said she, anxiously. +"You won't need to use any more."</p> + +<p>Chloe sniffed the air contemptuously, but made no reply.</p> + +<p>"What made you so late coming home?" asked Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"I came by the river road," replied Calista.</p> + +<p>"Why did you do that? It is longer and very lonely."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, and I don't think I shall try it again; at least on foot."</p> + +<p>"Did you see anybody?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw old Cassius and his wife, and had quite a talk with him."</p> + +<p>"Cassius—what about Cassius?" asked Miss Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, aunt, only I was saying I saw him and had a little talk with +him."</p> + +<p>"I won't have you talking with every one you meet," said Miss +Priscilla, sharply; "you are just such another as your father—hail +fellow, well met, with half the vagabonds in the country."</p> + +<p>"I should not call Cassius a vagabond," said Calista, too much +accustomed to Miss Priscilla's remarks about her father to mind them +as another girl would. "He has a nice little farm, with everything +comfortable about him, and seems as contented as the day is long. But I +did meet a vagabond, Miss Druett," said Calista; "the queerest-looking +old fellow I ever saw. Cassius calls him Old Zeke. He says the old man +and his wife are treasure-seekers, and know more than they ought to. +Do you know anything about him, Miss Druett?" she asked, seeing, or +fancying, that Miss Druett looked uneasy.</p> + +<p>"A little," replied Miss Druett. "He used to hang about here, years +ago. He and his wife are miserable cheats and impostors. I hope poor +Cassius is not taken in by him."</p> + +<p>"I should say there was no danger," said Calista. "Cassius says that, +even if they did find the pirate's money, it would be bloody gold and +would bring ill luck; and besides, he has enough without it."</p> + +<p>"Has he? He must be rich, then!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it always takes riches to make people contented," +observed Calista; "just see Miss Hannah and Miss Betsy, how happy they +are!"</p> + +<p>"So they ought to be—such prices as they ask for their weaving and +spinning," said Miss Priscilla. "What do you know about them, pray?"</p> + +<p>"I went with Mary to see them about some towels they are weaving for +Miss Alice, and they asked us to stay to tea."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Alice is too fine a lady to do her own spinning, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all, aunt. Miss Alice spins beautifully fine thread, but she +sends it to Miss Hannah to be woven. She is having a set of towels made +of her own spinning for the new parsonage."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she is! And you tell of it, thinking I will be moved to do the +like."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, aunt. I never thought of such a thing."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscy muttered something about sly minxes, as she sank back in +her chair for the nap she always took between her early tea and her +game of cribbage or backgammon.</p> + +<p>Calista waited till her eyes were closed, and then addressed herself in +a low tone to Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about these people—Zeke and his wife?"</p> + +<p>"Why should you think I know anything about them?" said Miss Druett, +answering, as she often did, one question by another.</p> + +<p>"I thought you looked so."</p> + +<p>"You are a sharp observer. Yes, I have known something about them."</p> + +<p>"Do they really set up for supernatural knowledge, and all that sort of +thing?"</p> + +<p>"They really do, and perhaps believe a little in their own devices, +though I hold them to be miserable swindlers and cheats. They have done +mischief enough in these parts before now. I am very sorry to hear that +they have appeared again. Their father was in the same way, and it was +said that he did really discover a sum of money. It was quite true that +he went to Philadelphia, and was seen there dressed like a gentleman +and spending a great deal. But his prosperity did not last long. He +spent all he had, and the next any one knew, he was back again living +in his hole on the river bank. Zeke and his wife Jael were acquainted +with your aunt at one time, and had anything but a good influence upon +her. I should be sorry to have her fall in with them again."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett said these words in a low whisper.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that she engaged with them in any +treasure-seeking!"</p> + +<p>Miss Druett nodded.</p> + +<p>"How perfectly absurd! Especially for one who does not pretend to +believe in anything."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing strange in that. A great many people believe in +witchcraft who don't believe in the Bible. You can see how very unlucky +it would be for her to fall in with them again."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. I am sorry I mentioned seeing the old man. He is a +horrid-looking object. I should not like to meet him alone."</p> + +<p>"You must never run the risk," said Miss Druett. "I am very glad old +Cassius was with you."</p> + +<p>"Have you done anything about my frocks?" asked Calista, after a little +silence.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, but I hope to."</p> + +<p>"I need some books," said Calista. "Miss McPherson says I must have a +dictionary and grammar, and a book to write exercises in."</p> + +<p>"Then you may tell Miss McPherson that you won't have anything of +the sort!" said Miss Priscilla, rousing herself and speaking with a +sharpness and suddenness which made Calista start. "You have had books +enough already. Always something to extort money. I won't let you go to +school another day. You shall stay at home and work for a living, and +save me the expense of a servant, instead of going to school all day +and then coming home and sitting for an hour with your hands before you +doing nothing. I say you shall not go to school another day."</p> + +<p>"Very well, aunt," replied Calista, coolly. She had heard the threat +too often to be alarmed at it.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Miss Druett, in her trenchant way.</p> + +<p>"Get the backgammon board, Calista, and tell Chloe to bring candles."</p> + +<p>Calista did so, and then betook herself to her own room. It was +anything but a sumptuous apartment. There had once been a handsome +paper on the walls, but it was stained with damp and hanging loose +in some places. The pieces of carpet by the bedside and before the +glass were trodden into shreds despite Calista's mending, and the +bed covering was old and faded. Forlorn as the room was, it was +Calista's only place of refuge, and she had done her best to make it +look pleasant. The floor was clean and the old furniture well dusted. +Calista's few books were neatly disposed on the mantlepiece. The +window, which looked to the east, was open, and a full flood of yellow +moonlight poured in at it. A mocking-bird was singing in the pine trees +which bordered one side of the old graveyard, and frogs and beetles +piped a not unmelodious chorus. Calista drew a chair into the deep +window recess and sat down, leaning her arm on the sill.</p> + +<p>"How lovely it all is!" said she to herself. "If Judge Settson or even +Aunt Hannah had this place, what a paradise they would make of it! As +for Aunt Priscilla, she might as well be in the poor-house as here +for all the comfort she takes or lets any one else take. I wonder if +it really is religion that makes the difference. To be sure there is +Antoinette Diaments—she pretends to be a Christian, and she is as mean +as Aunt Priscilla in a different way. But, then, she is only one.</p> + +<p>"I verily believe it is as Mary says, that it is not money that spoils +people, but the love of it. If I thought it would make me like Aunt +Priscilla, I am sure I would never think of being rich again. Oh dear, +how hungry I am!"</p> + +<p>And then Calista bethought herself of Sally's basket of ginger-nuts, +and, taking them from their concealment, she made a hearty supper. The +spicy gingerbread made her thirsty, and taking her cracked jug she went +down to the well for some water. As she was drinking from the bucket, +she saw that her handkerchief had fallen from the window. As she went +to pick it up, she heard Miss Druett say inside,—</p> + +<p>"You might let her have some new frocks and a little money for this +work nonsense. I tell you, Priscilla, you are making yourself the town +talk, and if you push the child to the wall, she will rebel."</p> + +<p>"I can't," said Miss Priscilla. "I shall die in the poor-house."</p> + +<p>"You might let her have her mother's things, at least. She has a right +to them, and she is quite old enough—"</p> + +<p>Calista heard no more, for a movement within awoke to the fact that it +would not be well for her to be caught listening, and she hastened back +to her room. She had heard enough to give her food for reflection and +wonder.</p> + +<p>Her mother's things! What did Miss Druett mean? She went back to her +childish days when she lived with Miss Malvina, and tried to recall +everything that the old lady had said to her. There was a vision +floating before her of some boxes carefully put away, and of Miss +Malvina showing her several things, and especially a beautiful book, +and saying something about her dear mother. But think as she could, the +vision would not assume any distinctness.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, if I could only remember!" said she at last. "If I could only +remember my mother! But I can't. All I can think of is a pale lady +lying on a sofa, or something, and dressing a doll for me, and then +holding me on her lap and teaching me to say, 'Now I lay me down to +sleep.' Oh, if she had only lived, wouldn't I have worked my fingers +off for her! I do think it was very hard I could not have a father and +mother like other people. Mary would say I had a Father in heaven, but +that does not seem the same at all."</p> + +<p>Then came one of those vivid flashes of memory which do come unbidden, +though they will seldom obey the will. She saw herself seated upon +Miss Malvina's lap by the side of the great open fireplace filled +with generous logs, before which stood a row of roasting apples. She +could see the very smoothing-irons on the mantlepiece, the stand with +the great Bible in the corner, the patchwork cushioned chairs, and +Miss Malvina's chintz short-gown and quilted petticoat, and heard the +old lady's tremulous voice as she said, "That was your dear mother's +favorite hymn, Calista, my love. Never forget it; never forget that +your dear mother was a true Christian, if a Christian ever lived. The +Lord was her shepherd, and he will be yours too, and lead you home to +himself and to her if you will only give your heart to him."</p> + +<p>"Then my mother is in heaven now!" said Calista to herself, with a +feeling of awe. She sat a few minutes longer, and then lighting her +very small end of candle, she got out her old ragged Bible and opened +it at random.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give +you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and +lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.'" (Matt. 11: +28, 29).<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Calista sighed. She knew that she was not meek or lowly. She tried +again, and opened to the third of Colossians, where she read,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>There was not much comfort in that either, but she read the chapter to +the end, and then knelt down and repeated the Lord's Prayer and "Now I +lay me down to sleep."</p> + +<p>She could not have told exactly what she expected to gain by the +action. It was simply an act of obedience. God had told people to pray, +and she would pray. But by so doing, she had made a great step. She had +recognized and confessed a conscious relationship of some kind between +herself and her Creator. Hereafter, the world would never be quite the +same to her.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER FIFTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>CALISTA ASKS A QUESTION.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CALISTA was up and dressed early as usual. She had heard the threat of +taking her out of school too often to be much impressed by it, and she +went down to her breakfast with Miss Druett cheerfully enough. Miss +Priscilla usually breakfasted in bed, and as Calista passed the door of +her room she heard her scolding Chloe for putting so much butter on the +toast.</p> + +<p>"There she goes," thought Calista; "I do wonder why Chloe stays here, +when she might go away if she pleased."</p> + +<p>Breakfast was the only comfortable part of her home life to Calista. +Miss Druett gave her a fair share of the food, such as it was, and +often shared her own cup of coffee or chocolate with her, and she could +eat without feeling that every mouthful was watched. She dispatched her +basin of bread and milk with an appetite. Miss Druett was not unkind, +and gave her a liberal supply of coffee, but she did not seem inclined +to talk, and Calista fancied that her face wore an unusual shade of +care.</p> + +<p>"Am I to go to school, Miss Druett?" asked Calista, when she had +finished her breakfast.</p> + +<p>"To school!" said Miss Druett, starting. "Yes, of course; why not?"</p> + +<p>"You know what aunt said last night; and, really, there is not much use +in my going unless I can have books. I need a dictionary and a Bible to +use in school."</p> + +<p>"A Bible!" said Miss Druett, in a tone of as much surprise as if +Calista had said she needed an Arabic lexicon. "What do you want of a +Bible?"</p> + +<p>"To read in. We read round every morning now. Besides, we are to have a +Bible-class three times a week, and Miss McPherson wishes all the girls +to join it."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Well, I will see what can be done; but I don't know. I can't +promise anything."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Priscilla grows harder every day, I think," observed Calista.</p> + +<p>"That is to be expected. Calista!" said Miss Druett, with sudden +animation. "Whatever you do, never, never set your heart upon +money—upon being rich. It is a love that once hatched in the heart +is like the cow-bird in the robin's nest: it turns everything else +out that it may devour all for itself. I love you, child—you may not +believe it, but I do—and I would rather see you in your coffin than see +you setting your heart on being rich."</p> + +<p>Calista was standing by Miss Druett, and as the lady finished speaking, +she did what she had hardly ever done before: she stooped down and +kissed Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"I do believe you love me, Miss Druett, and I love you. I wish I could +love Aunt Priscilla, but she won't let me."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett returned the kiss, and her eyes were suspiciously bright as +she said,—</p> + +<p>"Pity her then, child; you can do that. Now get ready for school, and +go into Priscilla's room before you set out. She has a message to +send to Mr. Settson. Don't say anything to her about your books. Ask +Miss McPherson to provide for you what is absolutely needful, and if +Priscilla won't pay the bill, I will contrive to do it myself."</p> + +<p>Calista went away and got ready for school as she was bidden, and then +opened the door of her aunt's room. Miss Priscilla, with a shawl round +her shoulders, was sitting up in bed examining an account-book, and +looked up impatiently as Calista entered.</p> + +<p>"What do you want here?" was her polite salutation.</p> + +<p>"Miss Druett said you wanted to send some message by me," returned +Calista, with equal conciseness.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Well, you may go and see Mr. Settson and tell him I think he must +foreclose that mortgage of Simpson's. He will never pay in the world."</p> + +<p>"His wife is sick so much," said Calista, she hardly knew why.</p> + +<p>"What is that to you, miss? Are you going to set up to direct my +business affairs? Take the message as I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Very well," answered Calista, dryly; "anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Anything else! No, nothing else. I suppose you would like to have me +give you a commission to buy yourself a silk dress and an India shawl, +wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"An India shawl would hardly be suitable for me, but I should like +the dress very much," said Calista, with the mischievousness which no +amount of snubbing had ever subdued. "Shall I get black or colored, +aunt? Clapp has a lovely dark blue, which would be just the thing for +me. Shall I bring you a sample?"</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla seized the book which lay before her in a way which made +Calista dodge, as if she expected to have her ears boxed with it—a +thing which had happened before—but Miss Priscilla, if such were her +design, relinquished it and contented herself with a threatening shake +of her head.</p> + +<p>Calista went away laughing; but her laugh was suddenly checked.</p> + +<p>"I ought not to enrage her so," she said to herself. "There is no +telling what she might do. But the temptation is so strong to take her +at her word. I wonder what she would say if I did. Anyway, I shall have +a chance to see Mr. Settson."</p> + +<p>Calista walked to school—not by the river road, however—and arrived +just in time to save a "tardy" mark.</p> + + +<p>At recess the girls were of course engaged in discussing the question +of the sale.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to make, Calista?" asked Antoinette Diaments of +Calista, as the latter stood near Miss McPherson, in the school-house +porch. She had purposely chosen her time with the amiable intention of +mortifying Calista before her schoolmistress; but her scheme failed; +and, moreover, involved herself in unexpected trouble.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose I shall make anything," said Calista, coloring. "My +aunt has her own ideas about such things, and she has not said yet that +she will give me any money."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Antoinette, sarcastically. "How sorry you must be!"</p> + +<p>Before Calista had time to reply, Belle Adair came up in a great hurry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Antoinette, I am glad I have found you," said she. "Tessy has +asked me to buy some netting cotton and a needle for her; and she told +me to ask you for the money you owe her, as she has none."</p> + +<p>"I haven't any change," said Antoinette, coloring and looking daggers +at Belle.</p> + +<p>"Eh, my dear! What is that?" asked Miss McPherson.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, ma'am; only Antoinette owes Tessy four and sixpence, and +Tessy told me to ask her for it; but Antoinette says she has no change. +Perhaps you can let her have some, ma'am," said Belle, as demurely as a +kitten bent on mischief.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Miss McPherson, producing her purse. "What do you +wish to have changed, Antoinette?"</p> + +<p>"There is no hurry," said Antoinette.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I think there is," returned Belle. "You know, Antoinette, +Tessy has asked you for the money several times, and you could not pay +her because you had not the change. But, as Miss McPherson is so kind—"</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson smiled, and frowned a little at the same time. She was +used to girls, and saw through Belle's little plot on the instant. She +also saw through Antoinette's evasion, and she detested meanness. Her +tone was, therefore, somewhat sharp as she said,—</p> + +<p>"Antoinette, did you hear me? Give me the bill you wish to have +changed, this moment."</p> + +<p>Startled out of her presence of mind, Antoinette pulled her purse out +of her pocket. As she did so, the clasp gave way and let out a handful +of silver and copper, which fell on the floor. The girls exchanged +glances as they assisted in picking it up.</p> + +<p>"Give that money to me!" said Miss McPherson. Then, as she counted it +over, "What did you mean by saying that you had no change, Antoinette? +Here are more than ten shillings in silver."</p> + +<p>"I—I forgot," murmured Antoinette.</p> + +<p>"Why did you not look to see? I must say it is difficult to believe you +could forget, with all this weight of silver in your pocket. Anabella, +here is Theresa's money. Are you going to lay it out for her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am. Miss Jessy said I might, as she had no netting cotton of +the proper size, and Tessy cannot go out on account of her lame ankle."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well. I presume you will use very good judgment. Anything +else?"</p> + +<p>"Please, ma'am, may I walk down with Anabella?" said Calista. "I have +an errand for my aunt."</p> + +<p>"Certainly; only do not be late for dinner; and, my love, I should like +you to perform a commission for me. Have you any work on hand that you +particularly wish to do?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," answered Calista, with a beating heart.</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps you will undertake some. I have no time for fancy work, +at present, and I believe I must make you and Jenny Rose my deputies. +What say you? Will you knit a bureau cover for me? I know you are an +excellent knitter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, ma'am. I should like to do it so very much," replied +Calista, with a rush of love and gratitude which brought the unusual +tears very near her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Very well, that is settled. Ask Miss Jessy what you will need, and I +will give you an order for the materials. But remember, I shall expect +something quite out of the common, that will be a credit to both of us. +Now go, or you will have no time."</p> + +<p>"Isn't she a dear?" said Anabella, as they walked away.</p> + +<p>"Indeed she is. You might say so if you were in my place. But, Belle, +you have got Antoinette into a scrape."</p> + +<p>"Yes, a worse one than I meant, though she deserves it for the way she +treats little Tessy. Think of her keeping the poor child out of her +money all this time!"</p> + +<p>"Antoinette can't bear to part with money: all the girls know that," +said Calista. "I wonder if I should be so mean if I were rich."</p> + +<p>"It is not being rich. Look at Elizabeth Howell. She hasn't a mean +thing about her. Are you going to buy your cotton to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No, I must see Miss Jessy first; and, as I said, I have a message from +my aunt to Mr. Settson."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, then, till I see you again."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Calista found the old gentleman alone in his office. She delivered her +message, and then plunged into the subject of which her own head was +full.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Settson, I should like to ask you a question, if it is not +improper."</p> + +<p>"Ask it," said Mr. Settson, smiling, "and then I shall know whether it +is improper or not."</p> + +<p>"It is about my grandfather's will," said Calista. "Miss Betsy told me +the other day that grandfather told her he had altered his will and +done justice to his son Richard and his wife. She said he told her and +Miss Hannah so only two or three days before he died. I am not a child +any more," said Calista. "I think I have some right to know about the +affairs of my own family. There is no use in asking anything of Aunt +Priscilla or Miss Druett. Miss Druett thinks I am no more than a baby, +and I don't know but aunt would kill me outright if I were to say +anything to her about business."</p> + +<p>Mr. Settson leaned back in his chair, took a pinch of snuff, and +regarded his young visitor with a critical glance.</p> + +<p>Calista was, as I have said, a very handsome girl, and had an +expression of vigorous health and strength somewhat uncommon at that +time, when it was considered a mark of gentility to be "delicate." She +carried herself remarkably well, and spoke with a ladylike tone and +accent, and though her manner was decided, it was modest and womanly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Settson's first remark was apparently irrelevant, to say the least +of it.</p> + +<p>"Take off that poke bonnet, child; I want to look at you."</p> + +<p>Calista found it somewhat hard to repress a movement of impatience, +but she did repress it, and took off her bonnet as desired, showing +the beautiful black hair, which no amount of brushing would keep from +curling and waving in its own way.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said the old gentleman. "A thorough Stanfield. Did any one +ever tell you that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Miss Betsy and Miss Hannah said so, and old Cassius."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear child, I quite agree with you that you have a right—a +moral right at least—to know the particulars concerning your late +grandfather's estate; but the story is not to be told in five minutes. +Have you half an hour to spare?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sir, an hour, if necessary," answered Calista, with a beating +heart, but outwardly quite composed. If her life with Miss Priscilla +had taught her nothing else, it had at least taught her self-control.</p> + +<p>"Very well. To make you understand matters, I must begin some way +back. You know, probably, that your grandmother was a second wife. She +was a Miss Howell, related to the Howells at Graywich, and possessed +of some property, which went into your grandfather's hands, as there +were no special settlements. General Stanfield was somewhat advanced +in life, and Priscilla, the only child of his first wife, was nearly +as old as his bride. When Richard came, he was naturally the object of +great affection, and I do not hesitate to say that his father was most +injudiciously, even culpably, indulgent to him.</p> + +<p>"The boy was permitted to run wild, so far as any government was +concerned. He associated with all sorts of people, and was given an +almost unlimited command of money. This was particularly the case after +his mother died, which she did, unfortunately, when your father was +only ten years old. Under such circumstances, it is a wonder that your +father grew up no worse than he did. I do not mean to say that he was +addicted to low vice or dissipation, for such was never the case, but +he was extravagant and self-indulgent, and totally without any guiding +principle, religious or otherwise. Your grandfather had unfortunately +taken up with those notions of the French philosophers which Mr. +Jefferson had made fashionable."</p> + +<p>Mr. Settson then gave an account of her father's college life, his +marriage, and the displeasure of her grandfather, and added: "A few +days about ten, I think—before his death, as I was riding out of town +to keep an appointment, I met General Stanfield, who had been away for +two or three weeks. He directed Cassius, who was with him as usual, to +go on, while he turned his horse and rode by my side for some distance, +talking on various subjects. Just as we were about to part, he said:</p> + +<p>"'Settson, I have made a new will.'</p> + +<p>"'Indeed!' said I.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' said he. 'I have thought the matter over, and I believe I have +been wrong, so I have made a new will, giving the homestead and all in +Cohansey to Dick and his children, if he has any, with a due allowance +to his wife. I shall bring the papers in to you in a few days, and we +will consult on the best way of obtaining intelligence.'</p> + +<p>"If I had had any suspicion of what was coming, I should have asked for +more particulars; but your grandfather's horse was very restive, and I +was in a hurry to keep my appointment. Just as your grandfather turned +back to go home, he said, 'I have made you and Fabian executors and +guardians.'</p> + +<p>"I was out of town for several days," continued Mr. Settson, "and the +very day after my return, I heard of your grandfather's death. Of +course I caused a proper search to be made for the will, but it was +not to be found. Cassius, whom I questioned closely, knew nothing of +the matter, not even when or where the will should have been made. His +master had been in New York, Philadelphia, and several other places, +but he had never known of his visiting a lawyer's office. And though +I was at a good deal of trouble and expense, I could never find out +anything about the matter."</p> + +<p>Calista sat silent a moment; then she asked, in a tone which was +singularly calm and business-like,—</p> + +<p>"In what year was this, Mr. Settson?"</p> + +<p>"In 1817."</p> + +<p>"But did not grandfather know that his son was dead and had left a +child?"</p> + +<p>"No, he knew nothing of either circumstance. Your parents never wrote +to him, or he never received their letters. Shortly after your mother's +death, Priscilla informed me, through Miss Druett, that she had learned +that Richard had left a daughter who was now an orphan, and that as +soon as the spring opened, she intended to send for the child and give +it a home, though, as she was careful to state, she was under no legal +obligation to do so."</p> + +<p>"Then if the last will could be found, would the old place and the rest +be mine?"</p> + +<p>"Without doubt; but I fear it never will be found."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Settson," said Calista, with flashing eyes and pale lips, "do you +suppose Aunt Priscilla could have destroyed that last will?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Settson was so startled by the question that it took a very large +pinch of snuff to restore his equanimity.</p> + +<p>"My dear Calista, you should think twice before even hinting at an +accusation of such a crime against your aunt. No, I do not believe +her capable of such an action—at least at that time. At present I do +not hesitate to say that I should hardly be surprised. I believe the +love of money has grown to be a disease with her, as it does with most +people who indulge in it. Never let it get hold of you, my dear child."</p> + +<p>"There seems no great danger of my having any money to love," said +Calista, rather bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you may love money without having it," said Mr. Settson. "I +suppose as many poor people love money as rich people—perhaps more in +proportion."</p> + +<p>"I am taking up a great deal of your time," said Calista, becoming +suddenly aware of the fact, and rising as the church clock struck.</p> + +<p>"You are welcome to it, my child. Sit down again for a moment; I have +something more to say to you."</p> + +<p>Calista sat down, wondering what was coming.</p> + +<p>"My dear Calista, I have always been interested in you," began Mr. +Settson, "for the sake of your grandfather, who was my father's friend +and mine, as well as for your own sake, and also because I consider +myself as your guardian by your grandfather's appointment. When +Miss Druett brought you home, I applied to Miss Priscilla Stanfield +for permission to take you and bring you up as my own, but this she +refused, and for some reason, which I do not understand, has always +refused. I have, however, kept my eye upon you. Thus I prevailed upon +your aunt to send you to school—"</p> + +<p>"I thought that was Miss Druett's doing," interrupted Calista, +surprised.</p> + +<p>"It was, in a great degree; that is, I should never have carried my +point but for her. What I wish to say is, that you may always come to +me for any advice or help you need. Consider me as standing to you in +the place of a father."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," said Calista, gratefully; "I am sure you are very +good. It is a comfort to think I have even one friend to look to."</p> + +<p>"'You have one Friend far more powerful than I am, my child, if you +will only seek him. Try to cultivate a sense of personal religion. Do +you do so?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Settson," answered Calista, with the perfect frankness which +was one of her best traits. "I don't even know exactly what you mean by +personal religion."</p> + +<p>"I mean personal loyalty to a personal God and Saviour," said Mr. +Settson, emphatically. "You can understand that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; but I am afraid I don't feel it. Mr. Settson, will you just +tell me one thing?"</p> + +<p>"If I can, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Do you really and truly, I don't say believe, but feel and realize it, +that God is your own Friend and Father, and loves you so that he really +cares for what you do and what happens to you?"</p> + +<p>"I most certainly do!" answered the old lawyer, with an earnestness +equal to her own. "I don't say that I am able to realize the fact at +all times alike, but I know and believe it as firmly as I do in my own +existence. Calista, I have had a reasonably prosperous and happy life, +but I solemnly declare that, only for my children, if I believed this +life was all, and that there was no God, or that God did not love and +care for me, I would give up life as a bad business, and be rid of the +trouble."</p> + +<p>"But would that be right?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not; but I fear the idea of right and wrong would not be very +strong with me under such circumstances as I have supposed."</p> + +<p>"What about Mr. Simpson's mortgage?" asked Calista, as she rose to go.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Tell Miss Priscilla that the man has been sick and unfortunate, +but he is sure to pay in the end, and I think she had better give him a +little more time. The investment is safe enough."</p> + +<p>"Please write it," said Calista. "She will only rave at me."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would be better." Mr. Settson wrote his note.</p> + +<p>Calista put it in her pocket and walked away, with her head fuller of +thoughts than it had ever been before. She was so absent in school, +and made so many mistakes that Miss Jessy observed to Miss Meeks that +Calista's head was far too full of her fancy work, and Miss Meeks +returned with a sarcastic smile, that she had never expected anything +else.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER SIXTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE SECRET DRAWER.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FOR several days Calista went about like one in a dream. She was so +absent that Miss Druett wondered what had come over the child; and she +made so many blunders in school that she brought down on her head a +sharp reprimand from Miss Meeks.</p> + +<p>"It is just what I predicted when this nonsense fair was first gotten +up," said that lady. "Your head is so full of your fancy work that you +can think of nothing else."</p> + +<p>"Eh! What is that?" asked Miss McPherson.</p> + +<p>"It is that Miss Stanfield is so careless that there is no bearing it, +ma'am," answered Miss Meeks. "Her exercise is just a disgrace with +blots, and the writing looks as if a powowet * had wagged over it." +Miss Meeks was apt to get to her Scotch when excited. "I tell her, +ma'am, it is a poor return for your kindness about the knitting work," +pursued the teacher; "verra ungrateful, I must needs say."</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<br>* A tadpole or pollywog, as we call it hereabouts.<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"It was not the knitting work," said Calista, very much hurt, but +trying to speak civilly, as she knew how Miss McPherson was vexed by +any rudeness to poor Miss Meeks. "I have had a great deal to think of +this week, Miss Meeks, and I know I have been careless, but I will try +to do better. I handed you the first copy of the exercise instead of +the second—that is all. Here is the right one."</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson took it from her hand and looked it over. "That is not +bad," said she; "but you should not allow yourself to write carelessly +at any time. However, Miss Meeks will excuse you this once."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said the teacher, not very graciously however, and as she +went away, she murmured something about favorites and absurd indulgence.</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson only smiled. She understood Miss Meeks's good qualities, +and she knew that the poor lady's irritability had a better excuse than +that of most people.</p> + +<p>"Really, Calista, my dear, you must try to do better, for your own +sake," said she, gently. "Remember that you are losing opportunities +which you may not have very long, and for which you are responsible. +Whatever it is that's occupying your mind, put it aside in school time +and give your whole attention to your lessons."</p> + +<p>Calista felt the wisdom of the advice, and tried to follow it in school +hours, but out of school, all her thoughts were occupied about what Mr. +Settson had told her. Then the old Stanfield place was really hers, by +right. Her grandfather had meant her to have it; he had made a will to +that effect, and her aunt had either hidden or destroyed it. Of that +Calista had no doubt, and conviction embittered her feeling towards +Miss Priscilla to an almost intolerable degree.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if I could find a chance, wouldn't I take one good look into +grandfather's room?" she said to herself, looking up at the shutters, +which she had never seen unbarred since she lived in the house.</p> + +<p>The room in question opened from the now never used back parlor, and +had been the General's private office. The back parlor was high and +spacious, and contained two or three tall book-cases, at which Calista +often gazed with longing eyes. They were always kept locked, and +the faded green silk linings of the glass doors hid their contents +effectually. The front parlor was kept in some sort of order, but the +shutters were always closed, and the room was forbidden ground to +Calista.</p> + +<p>It was Wednesday, and the afternoon session of school was to be devoted +to working for the much-talked-of fair. Calista had asked to be +excused, and had come home. To her surprise, she found no one in the +sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"Where are my aunt and Miss Druett, Chloe?" she asked, going into the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Gone to town to see about some law business, I expect," was the +answer. "What brings you here at this time of day?"</p> + +<p>Calista explained.</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right. Honey, you won't be afraid to stay in the house alone +a little, will you? I want dreadful bad to run over and see Sally a +little. She's got some stuff for the rheumatism, and I want to get the +receipt. You can lock the doors, you know, if you are afraid. You won't +be scared, will you?"</p> + +<p>"No, of course not," replied Calista, inwardly rejoiced at being left +alone in the house; "but you know what aunt will say if she comes home +and finds you gone."</p> + +<p>"Let her say," returned Chloe; "anyhow, I shall be back before she +will. But I'd lock the doors if I were you."</p> + +<p>There was no danger of Calista's neglecting this precaution. She had no +mind to be surprised in the work she proposed to herself.</p> + +<p>With a beating heart, she betook herself to the back parlor. She found +the book-cases all locked but one, which seemed to contain nothing, +only odd bound volumes of magazines and old newspapers. From these, +Calista extracted some numbers of the "Gentleman's Magazine" and a +couple of volumes of "La Belle Assemblée," which she laid aside, +intending to carry them to her room. She then closed the doors and +proceeded to examine the drawers under them. They contained nothing but +rubbish—bits of old fancy work and such like—but in one of them she +discovered a pretty leather working-case or equipage, as is used to be +called, containing a still serviceable pair of scissors. This she put +in her pocket, not without some misgivings.</p> + +<p>Then she went out to the kitchen, and finding all still, she returned +and tried the door of her grandfather's room. It was locked, as she +expected, but as she gave the door a push, something fell within, the +lock turned in her hand, and the door opened. Astonished and almost +terrified at her own success, she examined the door, and perceived that +the socket which held the bolt had fallen through the decay of the wood.</p> + +<p>She looked round her. The room was almost dark, but a little light came +through the round holes in the top of the shutters, enough to show +her the old mahogany desk and arm-chair, the silent clock, and the +once rich Turkey carpet which partly covered the floor, and from which +quite a cloud of little moths rose up as she stepped upon it. Over +the mantlepiece hung a portrait which she supposed to be that of her +grandmother, and under it a beautiful painted miniature of a little boy.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image003" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image003.jpg" alt="image003"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b><em>Old Stanfield House.</em></b><br> +<b>She advanced to the desk and lifted the lid.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"That was my father, I suppose," said Calista to herself. "I am glad +grandfather kept his picture, at any rate."</p> + +<p>She advanced to the desk and lifted the lid. It was empty, save for +a few papers which did not seem to be of any special value; only old +bills and leases. There was a recess in which lay an old-fashioned gold +seal; Calista took it up, and put her hand back to see if there was +anything else. There was nothing; but as she felt about, she touched +a spring, a small cupboard door opened, and she saw, lying upon its +shelves, half a dozen or more bright gold pieces of different sizes.</p> + +<p>A strange feeling came over Calista at this sight—almost like that of a +starving man at the sight of food. She saw the gold, and felt as if she +must have it at any price—at any risk.</p> + +<p>"It is yours by right," something said to her; "that and a great +deal more. Take it. Take a part of it, at any rate. Very likely Miss +Priscilla does not know of its existence, and will never miss it. She +never comes into this room. Take the gold. Who has a better right?"</p> + +<p>It seemed afterward to Calista that she stood debating the matter +with herself for an hour. In reality, it was not for two minutes. She +listened to the voice of the tempter, and stretched out her hand for +the gold. She would have taken it in another moment—made the false step +which, perhaps, she would never have retrieved. What stopped her?</p> + +<p>Merely an old recollection. Merely the words which had come to her mind +that night when she had first spoken to her Creator. The remembrance of +Miss Malvina's words, "Your mother was a true Christian, and is waiting +in her heavenly home for her little daughter."</p> + +<p>Calista drew back her hand, like one who had seen a rattlesnake coiled +under the fruit he was just going to gather. In all haste she pushed to +the cupboard door, closed the desk, and fled to her own room, utterly +forgetting that she had left a witness of her presence behind her in +the books she had laid aside. Once in her own room, she threw herself +on the bed, sobbing hysterically.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother! I didn't take it—I didn't take it!" she cried, as if +speaking to an actual presence in the room. "Oh, mother! You saved me! +I did not take the gold! I am not a thief! Oh, how glad I am that I +didn't even touch it—"</p> + +<p>She was still sobbing when she heard the clock strike, and knew that +her aunt must soon be at home. She arose, bathed her face and smoothed +her hair, and went down to the kitchen just in time to let in Chloe.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to leave you alone so long, honey," said the old woman. +"There's a cake old Sally sent you, to make up for it. But what's the +matter?" she asked, looking curiously at Calista. "Did anything scare +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I was a little frightened at staying alone so long; but never +mind. You must hurry and get tea ready, for my aunt will be here +directly."</p> + +<p>"That's so, and she'll raise old Ned if she's kept waiting. There, put +your cake away up stairs, and keep it for yourself. But first run and +pick up some chips for me, there's a dear."</p> + +<p>Calista was not sorry to get into the fresh air. She picked up the +chips, and then wandered across the road to the old graveyard, and read +the inscription on her grandfather's monument.</p> + +<p>"Twelve years ago he died," she said to herself. "For twelve long years +all his money and land have been no more to him. No, not as much as +this little wild strawberry is to me. And his life in the other world +has hardly begun yet. Twelve years. My mother has been dead longer than +that; and what difference does it make to them that one died rich and +the other poor!"</p> + +<p>"We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain that we carry +nothing out." Calista had heard these words many times, till they +were as trite to her as they are, perhaps, to you and me; but to-day, +sitting by her grandfather's grave, they took on a meaning as new as +though an angel had just spoken them in her ear. She saw, as it is +given to people sometimes to see, this life and the next in their +true proportions and relations. She saw how near that other life lay +to hers; how her daily path ran along its very margin, which it might +cross at any minute. She saw how immeasurably little—how absolutely +nothing—were all the interests of this life compared with that. A few +times in almost every person's life, the veil is lifted which hangs +between this life and that, and the spectator is shown a glimpse of the +fair and dreadful things behind it; and a voice, not of this world, +says,—</p> + +<p>"These, THESE are the real things!"</p> + +<p>The others are but dreams and shadows; or, at most, empty toys, broken +before enjoyed, wounding the hand that grasps them. Woe to him if, +having seen that sight and heard that voice, he goes on still in his +own way, living as if there were no such thing! The other day I saw +some sparrows busily making a nest in a building which was at that +moment being torn down. The silly little birds were wise compared to +such a man.</p> + +<p>Calista rose at last, and busied herself in pulling up the weeds and +thistles which grew on her grandfather's and grandmother's grave. +She would have done the same for that of the first Mrs. Stanfield, +Priscilla's mother, but it was overgrown with a poison vine which she +dared not touch. She had but just finished her task when she saw the +chaise drive up with her aunt and Miss Druett. She gathered a bunch of +the fragrant honeysuckle and some of the exquisitely fluted buds of the +laurel, and went in.</p> + +<p>It was very easy to see that Miss Priscilla was in one of her worst +humors. Calista had not exaggerated in saying that at such times she +was like some strong wild animal. She glared at Calista when she came +in, but said not a word. Calista put her flowers in water and came down +to tea. Not a word was spoken till Miss Druett said, not unkindly—</p> + +<p>"I saw you come across the road, Calista. Where had you been?"</p> + +<p>"Only in the graveyard, Miss Druett."</p> + +<p>"And what took you there, child? It is not cheerful place."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. I took a fancy to read the inscription on grandfather's +monument. It is terribly out of repair, and will be tumbling down if it +is not mended. And, Aunt Priscilla, your mother's grave is all covered +with poison ivy!"</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla set down her teacup with shaking hands and stared at +Calista, while her cheeks and even her lips became white.</p> + +<p>"How dare you go there?" she stammered. "How dare you speak to me of +graves?"</p> + +<p>"Why, where is the harm?" said Calista. "I wanted to see the monuments. +We must all go there some time or other, I suppose. Death seems about +the only certain thing one has to look forward to," she continued, +musingly, and speaking more to herself than her companions. "We are +sure of that, whatever else happens."</p> + +<p>"Be still!" almost screamed Miss Priscilla. "I won't hear such words! +Druey, make her be still! Send her away! I shall dream of dying—I know +I shall—and of the grave!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, Priscilla. Don't excite yourself so. The child meant no harm," +said Miss Druett. "There, run away, child, and ask Chloe for some +supper, or go up to my room if you like. There is something for you on +the bed."</p> + +<p>Calista obeyed, wondering at the storm she had raised. She did not care +for more supper, so she went up to Miss Druett's room, where she found +two cheap but pretty new frocks and a straw bonnet such as other girls +wore. Miss Druett had evidently carried her point somehow.</p> + +<p>She ventured down to the sitting-room after awhile. She found Miss +Priscilla asleep in her chair, as usual, and Miss Druett looking out of +the window, as usual. Calista stole to a low seat beside her, and Miss +Druett laid a hand on her head.</p> + +<p>"Thank you ever so much for the dresses, Miss Druett," Calista +whispered; "I know they were your buying—were they not?"</p> + +<p>"Partly, and partly Mr. Settson's. Calista, you must never again speak +to your aunt as you did to-night. I thought she would have a fit."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean any harm, Miss Druett."</p> + +<p>"I know it, child."</p> + +<p>"And surely Aunt Priscilla knows that she must die some time."</p> + +<p>"We know a great many things we do not like to think or speak about, +child; and Priscilla has a greater horror of death than any one I ever +saw."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why she should, when she thinks that death ends +everything," observed Calista.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you see there is always a terrible perhaps; and then the +thought of annihilation is dreadful to most people. But—not to talk +any more about that—tell me, Calla have you seen Old Zeke or his wife +anywhere about lately?"</p> + +<p>"No, not lately; at least, not that I am sure of," said Calista, +considering. "I saw a very tall woman on the edge of the woods as I was +coming home yesterday, but I was not near enough to see what she was +like, only, as I said, she was very tall. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Can I trust your discretion if I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," answered Calista—less proudly than she would have said +the words in the morning, for she still felt humbled in her own eyes.</p> + +<p>Miss Druett put her head down to Calista's and whispered very low—</p> + +<p>"Because I am afraid they are getting an influence over Priscilla +again. I am much mistaken if she has not had an interview with one or +other of them, and she has dropped more than one hint about spies and +so on. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open, and tell me if you +see anything. Hush, she is waking up. Get your knitting, child. You +should not sit idle all the evening."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett said these words aloud.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla glanced sharply at her, but apparently saw nothing to +rouse her suspicions, and the evening passed away as usual.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER SEVENTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MISS MEEKS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CALISTA waked early the next morning, and lay a long time thinking over +what had happened the day before. She shuddered at the narrowness of +her escape.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how differently I should be feeling if I had taken that money! It +was mother who saved me," she said to herself.</p> + +<p>And then a sensation of awe came over her as she asked herself the +question, "But who was it that sent the remembrance of mother at the +critical moment? Did he really care? Did he save me—me, who never did +or tried to do one thing for him in all my life? Can it be that Mary is +right, and that he really loves 'me?'"</p> + +<p>Calista rose, dressed herself, and sat down in her accustomed place in +the deep window. She revolved many things in her mind. She went back +over her past life, and considered her present situation. She looked +herself fairly in the face, so to speak, and she did not find a great +deal in the view to flatter her vanity.</p> + +<p>It was true, as Mary had hinted: she was in danger of thinking as much +of money as Aunt Priscilla herself.</p> + +<p>Looking back over the past few weeks, she was astonished to see how +much of her time and thoughts had been bestowed on that subject alone. +Walking by the way, alone in her own room, in the school-room when her +book was before her and her mind should have been on its pages—even +in the house of God itself—her one subject of contemplation had been +money, or what money would buy; what she would do when Aunt Priscilla +was out of the way, and the Stanfield place should be her own; and +latterly, how she would find her grandfather's will; how she would +confront Aunt Priscilla, and humble her in the dust; how she would take +possession of the old mansion, and put it in perfect repair; these had +been her dreams day and night. These had led her into temptation—had +almost brought her to the commission of an act at the thought of which +she still turned cold and sick.</p> + +<p>"I am resolved I will do so no more," she said to herself, decidedly +and almost aloud. "I will give my whole mind to my lessons, and so +prepare myself to make my own way in the world. I will try to be civil +to Aunt Priscilla, and not provoke her; but whatever I do, I won't be +thinking of nothing but money all the time, I am determined upon that. +She can't live forever, that is certain, and—"</p> + +<p>And then Calista, pulled herself up short, vexed and ashamed to find +her thoughts, even in the very moment of her resolution, going off into +their old channels. She would find, as many another has found, that +resolutions made in mere human strength are, as opposed to the force of +inbred and indulged sin, as a rope of sand to a mountain torrent.</p> + +<p>She rose with an impatient movement, and taking her grammar, which she +had brought home, she set herself determinedly to commit to memory the +notes under the rules, and to frame examples to illustrate them; and +she grew so interested in her work as to be surprised when the clock +struck seven, the signal for breakfast.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Oh, Calista, why didn't you stay yesterday?" said Belle Adair, as +Calista entered the school-room. "We had such a nice afternoon! Miss +McPherson sat with us and told us stories about the time she went to +school in Scotland and in Paris."</p> + +<p>"That must have been lovely," said Calista. "I wish I had staid."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"I thought of something I wished to do at home, but I didn't accomplish +it, so I might as well have been here, and better, too. What work did +you do?"</p> + +<p>"I worked at my lace veil, and Tessy began her curtains, and did quite +a piece upon one; and Mary Burns has a rug of sewed-on work, and +Elizabeth Howell a tucked skirt, and Clary Whitman a painted velvet +stool, and I can't tell you all, only we had a lovely time!"</p> + +<p>"All but Antoinette!" remarked Emma.</p> + +<p>"Why, what was the matter with Antoinette?"</p> + +<p>"Well, several things. In the first place, you must know that Miss +McPherson has been changing the rooms about. She has put Tessy in the +little room that opens from Miss Jessy's."</p> + +<p>"Poor Tessy! She will have to learn to keep her things in order."</p> + +<p>"Well, Tessy says she doesn't care: she wants to learn to be neat. And +Antoinette is in the other little room by herself, next to Miss Meeks. +She doesn't like it one bit, because she can't borrow of Tessy now +without being found out, and none of the other girls will lend to her. +Even Elizabeth Howell said to her, when she wanted some hairpins, 'Thee +is just as well able to buy hairpins as I am!'"</p> + +<p>"Well, so she is. Now Mary Burns is really poor, but you don't find her +sponging!" said Emma.</p> + +<p>"Well, but that needn't have spoiled Antoinette's comfort yesterday +afternoon. What was the matter then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss McPherson would not let her work the grand picture with the +spangled shepherdess that she had set her heart on! She said that such +things were going out of fashion, and that this would be so expensive +no one would buy it, and she should do something less ambitious. +Antoinette said pertly she did not care whether any one bought it or +not, she should have the credit of it, and if the picture did not +sell, she should have that too. You should have seen Miss McPherson +look at her! And then Elizabeth Howell asked Miss McPherson if she did +not think it would be better to have the things sent in just from the +school, without any individual names at all."</p> + +<p>"That is just like Elizabeth—especially as she is doing the prettiest +piece of all; I mean her muslin apron. Well, what did Miss McPherson +say?"</p> + +<p>"She said we could take time and think the matter over, and then we +could decide."</p> + +<p>"And then Charity Latch—just think, Calista—Charity said for her part +she wanted the credit for what 'she' did."</p> + +<p>"She works so elegantly," said Calista, and all the girls laughed, +for it was notorious that Charity had never learned to sew up a seam +decently.</p> + +<p>"But how do you like the idea, Calista?" asked Mary Settson.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it suits me very well," answered Calista, with a little +bitterness, "so long as I have nothing to do at all."</p> + +<p>"I am sure your bureau cover will be lovely."</p> + +<p>"It isn't mine, it is Miss McPherson's. How do you like it, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say, with Charity, I don't see why we should not have the +credit of what we do," said Mary. "I know I like to, for one, as well +as she does."</p> + +<p>"The Bible says we should not let our left hand know what our right +hand does, thee knows, Mary," said Elizabeth Howell, who had joined the +group in time to hear Calista's question and Mary's answer; "and we are +not to love the praise of men."</p> + +<p>"Not better than the praise of God," said Mary, quickly.</p> + +<p>"And how is one to set a good example, if one's doings are never to be +known?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say I think much of examples that are set on purpose," +remarked Belle Adair. "And I don't believe one ought to be always +thinking about them, either. That just comes to thinking, what people +will say about you. And I suppose it is just as much loving the world +to care too much about being looked up to, as it is to care too much +about money, like some folks."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is," said Tessy, thoughtfully, while Mary looked annoyed. +"I thought it was every one's duty to set a good example. Have you +learned a verse, Emma? This is Bible morning, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes; Miss Jessy showed me a nice one," answered Emma:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it.'" (John 2:5)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said Elizabeth, smoothing the little girl's hair; "let us +only remember that, and our example will take care of itself."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Belle and Elizabeth think that I do love the world," +thought Mary, as she took her seat; "I don't see why they should."</p> + +<p>Calista did not find the day altogether a pleasant one. Her desk-mate, +Antoinette, was in a desperate fit of the sulks, and she gave her +companion the full benefit of it, making herself disagreeable in all +the ways which the ingenuity of ill temper could contrive. Calista +herself was preoccupied; and though she tried very hard to adhere to +the rule she had laid down of thinking of nothing in school but her +lessons, she did not succeed very well. She had allowed herself to fall +into bad habits in this respect.</p> + +<p>And she had, besides, a cause of considerable anxiety. Putting her +hand into an inside pocket to find a pencil, her fingers encountered +something hard, which her touch did not recognize. She drew it out, and +there was the little working equipage she had found in the book-case +drawer. She had taken it almost without thought, only considering that +the scissors and bodkin would be convenient to use; but as she looked +at it she saw that the little bottle, which still smelled of otto of +roses, had a gold or gilded stopper, and that all the handles of the +implements were the same. The whole was evidently of considerable +value. Nor was that all. As Calista looked at it, she remembered the +pile of books and magazines she had intended to take to her room, and +which she had left lying on the floor by the book-case. Then, too, +there was the broken lock to her grandfather's room She did not know +whether Aunt Priscilla ever went thither, but if she did, she would be +sure to see that some one had been meddling. She would suspect Calista, +of course, as she always did suspect her of any mischief that was done +in the house.</p> + +<p>"Well, if she does, I must just tell her the truth, whatever comes," +thought Calista. "After all, where was the harm? She never told me not +to go there."</p> + +<p>Calista still held the case in her hand when the recess bell struck, +and she was roused from her reverie by hearing Antoinette, say,—</p> + +<p>"Oh, Calista, what a pretty case! Where did you get it? Let me see it, +won't you?"</p> + +<p>"It is not mine," said Calista, holding it out for inspection. "I did +not know I had it with me."</p> + +<p>"Did your aunt lend it to you? How curious it is! Do you suppose those +handles are gold? Let me take it, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I can't; I told you it was not mine," and Calista put out her hand +for the box.</p> + +<p>"But you can just lend it to me for a day or two. Come, do. I am going +over to Graywich to spend Sunday, and it would be so nice to carry. +Come, do."</p> + +<p>"I tell you it is not mine," answered Calista; the more angrily because +she was vexed with herself. "Give it to me this minute."</p> + +<p>"Take it, then," said Antoinette, as angrily as herself. "For my part, +I would not carry about such valuable things belonging to other people. +Would you, Miss Meeks?"</p> + +<p>Now, Antoinette had succeeded in getting on the favorable side of +Miss Meeks—an operation which she had never performed with Miss +McPherson. Moreover, Miss Meeks did not like Calista, who was somewhat +opinionated, and had a way of asking questions and wishing to go to the +bottom of things, not always agreeable or convenient to Miss Meeks. +Therefore, when appealed to in this way, by Antoinette, she was quite +ready to take up on her side.</p> + +<p>"What do you say, Antoinette?"</p> + +<p>"I say that, if I were Calista, I would not carry about a valuable +gold-mounted working-case belonging to somebody else."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. It is very improper," said Miss Meeks, with sharp +decision. "I wonder at you, Miss Stanfield—that is, I should if it +were any one else. Pray, did your aunt give you leave to take her +working-case and bring it to school?"</p> + +<p>"It is not my aunt's working-case, that I know of, and I did not mean +to bring it to school," returned Calista; answering sharpness with +sharpness, and certainly speaking not very respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is very likely," sneered Antoinette.</p> + +<p>"And if Antoinette thinks it so very improper to carry a working-case +belonging to somebody else, I think it rather singular she should be +so anxious to borrow this one to carry down to Graywich—that is, I +should if it were any one else," added Calista, with a very successful +imitation of Miss Meeks's manner.</p> + +<p>"Miss Stanfield, you are very impertinent. I shall report you."</p> + +<p>"Eh, what! What is the matter?" asked Miss McPherson herself, who had a +habit of suddenly appearing where she was least expected.</p> + +<p>"The matter is, ma'am, that Miss Stanfield is insolent and disobedient, +as usual," said Miss Meek; in a tone and manner of irritability so +disproportioned to the occasion that Calista looked at her in surprise. +The poor lady's lips were white, and the drops stood on her forehead.</p> + +<p>"How is that?" asked Miss McPherson.</p> + +<p>"Miss Stanfield has brought to school a valuable working-case of her +aunt's, as I understand without leave; and when I reproved her, she not +only answered me back, but actually mimicked me to my face," said Miss +Meeks, in a voice which shook so she could hardly articulate.</p> + +<p>"How is that, Calista?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you all about it, Miss McPherson," said Calista, +recovering herself a little, but still very angry. "I found this case +in a drawer with some old rubbish, yesterday, and I put it in my pocket +without looking at it very much; I thought I would ask Miss Druett if I +might use it, because I have no scissors of my own. But she was not at +home; and when she did come, my aunt was very unwell, and several other +things happened, which, altogether, put the case out of my head, and +I forgot I had it. I found it in my pocket, just now, and Antoinette +wanted to borrow it to take down to Graywich with her when she went to +spend Saturday and Sunday. I told her it was not mine and I could not +lend it. Then she said she would not carry about valuables which did +not belong to her, and appealed to Miss Meeks, who found fault with me, +as usual. That is the whole story."</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson looked seriously displeased, and her displeasure fell, +to begin with, in an unexpected quarter. Antoinette knew how particular +was Miss McPherson in exacting respectful treatment towards her +subordinates, and particularly towards Miss Meeks, and she waited with +ill-concealed satisfaction to hear what would be said to Calista. As it +was, however, the principal's first words were addressed to herself.</p> + +<p>"Antoinette, did I not strictly forbid your borrowing or asking to +borrow anything whatever from your schoolmates?"</p> + +<p>Antoinette, surprised at the sudden change of programme, could only +stammer something about not meaning to use it in school time.</p> + +<p>"Was anything said about school or school time? Did I not positively +forbid your borrowing anything from your schoolmates on any pretext +whatever? Answer me!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean—" stammered Antoinette.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me what you meant! Answer my question."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," Antoinette was forced to answer.</p> + +<p>"And yet I find you trying to borrow this very working-case from +Calista, and that when she tells you in so many words it is not hers. +I want no more words. You will take your Racine, learn the first two +speeches in Alexander by heart, and recite them to me to-morrow morning +before breakfast. No crying," added Miss McPherson, as Antoinette burst +into a flood of tears. "I will give you another ten lines for every +tear you shed."</p> + +<p>"Well, really!" said Miss Meeks.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, my dear Eliza, but had you not better retire to your room +and rest a little?" said Miss McPherson in a tone of gentle authority. +"I will deal with this rebellious girl, and see that she makes you a +proper apology."</p> + +<p>Miss Meeks murmured something not very intelligible, and went away +rather against her will, as it seemed, and Miss McPherson drew Calista +into her own special sanctum, a small, cheerful book-room opening from +the school-room.</p> + +<p>"Now, Calista," said she, after she had taken her seat and motioned +Calista to another one, "I am going to read this article in the paper. +I want you to employ the time in thinking over your conduct this +morning, and then I shall request you to tell me whether your conduct +to Miss Meeks was ladylike or becoming. I think I can depend upon you +to be honest both with yourself and me."</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson took up her paper and adjusted her double eye-glass, and +Calista was left to her own reflections, which were not very agreeable. +She was vexed with herself for taking the working-case at all, for +bringing it to school, and for having lost her temper, at Antoinette +for getting her into the scrape, and at Miss Meeks for her injustice +and partiality.</p> + +<p>"I need not have spoken so to her, and above all I need not have +mimicked her; but it certainly is very vexatious to have some one +always ready to see the wrong side of you, and make the worst of +everything you say and do. Who would have thought of her getting in +such a rage over such a trifle! Her very lips were pale. I thought she +was going to faint. Oh dear, I wish I could ever have any peace or +comfort in all my life!" thought poor Calista, and the tears rose to +her eyes. "I should wish I were dead if it were not wicked, and if I +were sure of being better off!"</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson finished her article—I am able to inform the reader that +it was a critique upon a volume of tales published by one Mr. Irving, +then a young author of some promise—and laid down her paper.</p> + +<p>"Well, Calista," said she.</p> + +<p>Calista could not be obstinate under the kind, penetrating look of +those dear motherly gray eyes. She said at once:</p> + +<p>"Miss McPherson, I own that I was rude to Miss Meeks this morning. I +did repeat her words, and I suppose I mimicked her. I am sorry. But if +I am to say all I think—"</p> + +<p>"Say on, bairn," said Miss McPherson, using a tender Scotch word, which +she seldom did use. "Let me hear all that is in your mind."</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss McPherson, I do think that Miss Meeks was unjust to me, as +she most always is. She never stopped to hear what I had to say, but +jumped to the conclusion that Antoinette was right and I was wrong. +And that is the way she always does. I never can do anything right in +her eyes, however much I try, and I do try to please her a great many +times. I should not have minded so much this morning if I had not been +troubled about other things. But, oh, Miss McPherson, I have such hard +times at home, and then when I come to school thinking to have some +rest and comfort, to be taken up so, I could not bear it."</p> + +<p>And Calista burst into passionate tears.</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, my dear lassie! Don't cry so!" said Miss McPherson, +gathering the bowed head and shaking form to her bosom as if Calista +had been a little child she was comforting. "I know you do have hard +times, and I know Miss Meeks is not always very wise; but, Calista, she +has hard times too, and is likely to have harder. You, at least, have +youth and health; poor Miss Meeks has neither."</p> + +<p>"Isn't she well?" asked Calista, interested and diverted for the +moment. "I notice she turns very pale sometimes. She did this morning. +I thought it was because she was angry."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. She has times of great pain, and they are the harder +to bear because she is so determined to keep them to herself. The very +suppression makes her irritable. Can you understand that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed!" answered Calista. "But what is the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know, though I may guess," answered Miss McPherson; "but, +Calista, you must not breathe a word of this to any one. She cannot +endure to have the subject mentioned."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I will not," said Calista. "I am very sorry for her. Has she +no friends?"</p> + +<p>"Not one that I know of except a half-demented body of a sister who has +just sense enough not to be put into an asylum, but not enough to earn +her own bread or find for herself in any way. Miss Meeks maintains her +almost entirely."</p> + +<p>"Poor thing!" said Calista. "I suppose that is the reason she makes her +dresses over and over, and wears her bonnets forever. If the girls knew +that, they would not laugh at her stingy ways, as they call them."</p> + +<p>"If we knew about the hidden life of most people, I dare say we should +find more to pity than condemn," observed Mir McPherson. "But now that +you know—in confidence, remember—thus much about poor Miss Meeks, I am +sure you will go and ask her pardon and make friends with her."</p> + +<p>"I will go this minute," said Calista, starting up; "and, Miss +McPherson, I am sorry I have made you so much trouble."</p> + +<p>"Pardon is granted, my child. As to the bone of contention—the +working-case—I do not understand all the circumstances, and so I have +nothing to say; only, my dear, whatever happens, never be tempted into +being sly or doing anything underhanded. Mind, I don't say you have, +but, situated as you are, the temptation is likely enough to beset you. +For the sake of your own soul, I beseech you not to yield to it. Now go +and find poor Miss Meeks."</p> + +<p>Calista knocked at the door of Miss Meeks's room in the third story, +and hearing a sound which she took for "Come in," she opened the door. +The room was darkened, but she saw Miss Meeks leaning back in the +rocking-chair.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss Meeks," she began. And then, with a sudden +change of tone, "But what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>Miss Meeks did not answer except by a feeble motion of the hand and a +moan. Much alarmed, Calista sprung to her side.</p> + +<p>"Are you faint, Miss Meeks? Shall I call some one?"</p> + +<p>"Shut the door!" whispered Miss Meeks.</p> + +<p>Calista did so and returned, but Miss Meeks was clearly fainting. +Calista had the nursing instinct—the capacity of doing the right +thing—which is born with some people, and which others never acquire. +She loosened the broad ribbon belt and buckle which Miss Meeks wore, +and slipping her hand behind her, unhooked her dress.</p> + +<p>"How can she dress so tight? No wonder she is faint!" was her thought.</p> + +<p>Miss Meeks wore a thick white cape crossed over the bosom of her +low-cut dress—all dresses were cut low at that time. Calista opened it +to give the patient air, but with the instinctive delicacy of a born +lady she closed it again. She had had a glimpse of poor Miss Meeks's +hidden trouble, and a glimpse was enough.</p> + +<p>"Poor thing! I won't bring any one to spy on her," her first thought.</p> + +<p>She sought on the toilet table for a bottle of cologne, with which she +bathed the face of her patient, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing +her color come back. Miss Meeks opened her eyes, put her hand up to her +neck, and started.</p> + +<p>"You are better," said Calista, gently. "Shall I help you to lie down +on the bed?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; I am better in the chair. My drops—in a little bottle—do you +see?"</p> + +<p>"Is this it?" asked Calista. "How much?"</p> + +<p>"Ten drops, in water."</p> + +<p>Calista prepared the medicine and gave it into her hand.</p> + +<p>She swallowed it eagerly, and then, looking up, seemed for the first +time to understand who her companion was.</p> + +<p>"Is this you, Calista? How came you here?"</p> + +<p>"I came to tell you that I was sorry for being rude to you this +morning," said Calista, blushing; "and then I found you were ill, and +staid to wait on you. Are you better?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. It is over for this time. But you unfastened my dress!" she +added, in a tone of alarm. "Did you see?"</p> + +<p>"I saw you had a great trouble," answered Calista, gravely; "but don't +be alarmed, Miss Meeks. I shall never mention it, I give you my word. +But—excuse me—ought you not to have a doctor?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, child. There is nothing to be done—at least, not yet. Oh, +what will become of me and my poor sister?" Miss Meeks leaned against +Calista, and gave way to a burst of agonized sobs.</p> + +<p>Calista wisely let her cry on, supporting her, and looking down on +her former enemy with a mixture of pity and reverence which she never +thought she could feel for Miss Meeks.</p> + +<p>"There is the bell," said Miss Meeks, starting; "I must go down."</p> + +<p>"You are not fit," said Calista; "cannot you lie still and rest till +dinner?"</p> + +<p>"No; there are the little girls' spelling and reading classes; and Miss +Jessy is too busy to hear them."</p> + +<p>"Could not I hear them, for once?" asked Calista, wondering at herself. +"They are all nice little things. I dare say they would be good with +me."</p> + +<p>"But your grammar lesson?"</p> + +<p>"I learned it before I came to school. Do keep still and let me try, +Miss Meeks. It won't do any such great harm if I don't succeed as well +as you, for once; and I am sure you are not fit to go down. Your lips +are white now."</p> + +<p>"The pain takes a great deal out of me," said the poor lady, yielding +to the temptation and leaning back in her chair. "Well, Calista, if you +think you can, and Miss McPherson is willing, you may try. The children +are good little things, as you say, and will make no trouble."</p> + +<p>"And you will forgive me for being so rude this morning?" said Calista. +"Indeed, Miss Meeks, I have my own troubles, too, or I should not have +forgotten myself so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, don't mention it. I dare say I was unreasonable. I have +been in so much pain all the morning. You won't tell what you have +seen—not to any one?" Miss Meeks held her hand and looked imploringly +in her face.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," answered Calista, solemnly. "I promise you, Miss Meeks, I +never will. Now, can I do anything else for you? For I suppose I should +be going."</p> + +<p>"Only hand me my Bible from the table. Thank you. Oh, my love, believe +me, if you have trouble, as you say, this is the only source of +comfort. I should die without it, or go mad. There, there, God bless +you! Go."</p> + +<p>"Who would have thought,—" said Calista, as, having obtained Miss +McPherson's permission, she assumed Miss Meeks's place in the little +school-room, and called the children to their lessons—"who would have +thought that I, of all people, should be Miss Meeks's deputy?"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER EIGHTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MARY.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"WHERE have you been all the morning?" asked Mary Settson, as she met +Calista just after the noon recess was proclaimed. "I have not had a +sight of you."</p> + +<p>"You would never guess," said Calista. "I don't know how to believe it +myself."</p> + +<p>Calista spoke gayly. She felt in better spirits than she had done for a +long time. Anything like a quarrel was always an annoyance to her; and +she was very much pleased at having at last made friends with poor Miss +Meeks.</p> + +<p>Then she had thoroughly enjoyed her hour and a half of teaching. Every +one likes to be of use, not to say of consequence. The little girls +had been very good and orderly. They had read and spelled well, and +recited their small portion of Pinnock's "Catechism" without a mistake; +and Calista had rewarded them with the story of King Alfred learning +to read and afterward watching the cakes. She had a great talent for +narration, and had the pleasure of seeing her small audience listening +with rapt attention, and of hearing a universal cry of:</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, Miss Stanfield, go on. Tell us some more."</p> + +<p>She had promised another story "some time;" and had promised to tell +Miss McPherson and Miss Meeks how good they had been. So teacher and +pupils had parted with mutual satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"I am not good at guessing," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Well—but don't look incredulous, however strange my tale may appear—I +have been sitting upon the throne of Miss Meeks and wielding her +sceptre for a full hour and a half. In other words, I have been keeping +order and hearing lessons in the little school-room. I—even I, myself. +Think of that!"</p> + +<p>Mary did think of it, and it did not please her. For the last year +she had been used to being called upon to hear the little ones on +emergencies; and though she was not fond of teaching, and often +complained of the trouble, she did not dislike the consequence it gave +her any more than did Calista. So it came to pass that there was some +sharps in her tone as she said:</p> + +<p>"How in the world did that happen? I should say you were the last one +in the school likely to be called on to help Miss Meeks. I thought you +had a quarrel only this morning."</p> + +<p>"So we had, and that was exactly the way the wonderful event came to +pass."</p> + +<p>"You must speak more plainly if you want me to understand you."</p> + +<p>"Well, it happened even so: Miss Meeks and I did have—well, not just a +quarrel, but an outcome, as Miss Jessy says. It began with Antoinette +in the first place, who called Miss Meeks to take her part, which she +did, and scolded me as usual. I was vexed, and answered her back. Miss +McPherson said I was rude—or, what was still worse, she made me say +so,—" continued Calista, laughing and blushing—"and sent me to Miss +Meeks's room to apologize. I found the poor thing very ill, and all but +fainting away with a pain in her side, or something of the sort. She +would not let me call any one, and I waited on her as well as I could, +till she was better.</p> + +<p>"But she felt very faint and weak after the pain, and so I persuaded +her to keep quiet till dinner, and let me hear the little girls. She +said I might if Miss McPherson was willing. So I asked her, and she +said I might. The children were very good and said their lessons +nicely, and I rewarded them with the very new and original narration +of King Alfred burning the oat-cakes, with which they were as hugely +delighted as if nobody had heard it before. And, in fact, though it +is hard to believe it, I suppose a story is new to every child that +hears it for the first time;" with which original reflection Calista +concluded her own story.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say, I think it was odd in Miss McPherson to send you," +said Mary, in a tone which trembled a little in spite of herself. "I +wonder what I could have done to displease her?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, I presume," answered Calista, in surprise. "Why should you +think so?"</p> + +<p>"Because she has always asked me to hear the scholars in the little +room before, and I don't see why she should choose some one else."</p> + +<p>"Why, goosie, because I went to her. Miss Meeks told me to ask her, +and of course she said yes. Besides, you were busy, and I was not. I +learned all my lessons before I came to school. What could be more +natural?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it was that," said Mary, her voice shaking more and +more. "She is displeased about something. I am sure I have always done +my best with the little girls. If I have not told them stories and +amused them, I have tried to have them learn, and it is very hard to +have anybody put over my head without giving me any reason." Mary was +fairly crying.</p> + +<p>"Mary, you are too silly for anything," said Calista, vexed for +the moment. "Nobody has been put over your head. Don't you see how +naturally it all happened? Suppose I had asked Miss McPherson, and she +had said, 'No, I prefer Miss Settson should do it;' do you think I +should cry about it? Not I. I should just have thought, 'Mary has had +more experience; it is natural Miss McPherson should prefer her.'"</p> + +<p>"That is just what I say. I have had more experience."</p> + +<p>"You had not more experience when you began, I suppose. There must be a +first time. I dare say Miss McPherson thought it would be a good lesson +for me."</p> + +<p>"I am sure Miss McPherson would not have chosen some one else unless +she had something against me," continued Mary. "She acted as if she had +yesterday. She praised Mary Burns's work up to the skies, though it +only a rug made of bits out of her father's shop, and all she said to +mine was, 'Yes, very pretty, my dear.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, you know Mary is poor, and has very little to give, and I do +think her rug is wonderful, considering what it is made of. It looks +like a bit of Persian carpet. I have always noticed what a good eye +Mary has for colors. She would paint better than Clary Whitman if she +had the chance to learn."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, she is the eighth wonder of the world, no doubt! But I don't +think I shall send anything to the table, or go to the meetings any +more. If my work is not worth noticing, it certainly is not worth +selling."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mary," said Calista, gravely, "you are always lecturing me +about loving the world, and now I am going to lecture you a little. +You think a great deal too much about being praised—about having +people think well of you. Now it seems to me that the praise of men, +as Elizabeth Howell says, is just as much one of the things of the +world that we are not to love, as money or fine clothes. Of course we +all like the good opinion of our friends; but when it comes to being +distressed because somebody else is asked to do something, or because +some other person's work is praised more than one's own, why I think it +is time to take a look and see where one is going."</p> + +<p>Mary was silent, and twisted her chair. She felt the words were true, +and she did not like them any the better for that. She had always +assumed a certain superiority over her friend, to which Calista had +humbly assented, and it was not agreeable to be taken to task in her +turn.</p> + +<p>"Come, don't let's spoil our recess," said Calista, in a lighter tone; +"you know you promised to teach me the fan stitch, and I brought my +needles on purpose."</p> + +<p>"You had better ask Mary Burns to show you," answered Mary, in a tone +which was meant to be dignified, but was only stiff; "I don't know that +I care about teaching any one who has such an opinion of me as you seem +to entertain. I thought I had one friend at least in the school, but +it seems I was mistaken!" And Mary's wounded feelings and temper—two +things which are apt to get very much mixed up together—found vent in a +flood of tears.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Calista, vexed in her turn. "Mary, you are too absurd. +You are always lecturing me, and I am content you should; but the +minute I say a word to you, you flare up in this way. I should think I +had enough to put up with, without your turning on me. I don't know but +that is the 'spirit of Christ,'" she concluded, alluding to the verse +Mary had repeated in the morning, "but I must say it does not seem much +like it to me."</p> + +<p>And with this parting shot, which was a sufficiently sharp one, Calista +went away and left Mary to her own reflections.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" she said to herself, in some natural impatience. "It does +seem as if I never could be comfortable half an hour together. Who +would ever have thought of her taking matters in that way!"</p> + +<p>If Calista was uncomfortable, Mary was still more so. She was really +trying very hard to be a Christian, but on this particular point she +had never learned to know herself, or to call things by their right +names. She had often said to herself that she did not love money, or +fine clothes, or gay amusements—all of which was true—therefore she +did not love the world. But "the world" takes a great many shapes, +and creeps in at a great many holes and corners; and whatever petty +disguises it may put on, it is the same world still, the intimate ally +and friend of "the flesh and the devil."</p> + +<p>Praise was Mary's "world"—appreciation she called it. She loved to +stand well in the eyes of other people, to be called the best scholar +and the neatest worker in school, the model member of the catechism +class in church. She liked to know that she was pointed out as an +example of early piety by the pastor, as a good sister and daughter at +home. She loved the praise of men, and that love, as it always does, +was beginning to spring up and bear fruit—poison fruit, which, if the +vine was not plucked up by the roots, threatened to choke the word and +make it unfruitful, as surely as the deceitfulness of riches would have +done. It was coming to that with her that she did not like to have any +one praised but herself—that she felt all commendation of another as so +much taken from her own share.</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson had praised Mary's homely work more than her own +exquisite netted fringe. That very morning, in the French class, she +had told Anabella Adair that she had improved very much in accent and +style, and had only included herself in the "very well, my dears," +addressed to the whole class. And now, to crown all, she had given the +charge of the little ones to Calista, who had not only taught them, +but interested and amused them as well. No doubt the ungrateful little +things were saying at that moment that they liked Miss Stanfield better +than Miss Settson—very likely they would say so to Miss Meeks and Miss +McPherson. Mary almost felt as though she could never come to school or +speak to Calista again.</p> + +<p>John Bunyan, with that wonderful experimental knowledge which seems +like inspiration, says that one leak is enough to sink a ship, and one +sin to destroy a sinner. There is no doubt at all that one known and +acknowledged sin is enough to undermine the Christian character of the +best saint that ever lived, if it is indulged or harbored after its +true character comes to be known.</p> + +<p>Mary had, for some time, had an uneasiness as to this very matter. She +felt that here was her weak point, but she did not like to examine +and make sure of it, which was as wise as if a ship's captain should +refuse to examine a suspected spar or defective cable. She was strong +everywhere else, and she did not consider that the weakest link—not the +strongest—measures the strength of the chain. Even now she was made +aware that she had been unkind to Calista and unjust to Miss McPherson, +but she would not acknowledge to herself that the root of the trouble +lay in her inordinate love of praise. No, Calista had provoked her and +Miss McPherson had taken pains to mortify her, but it was her duty to +overlook it, and she would do so by treating Calista just as usual, +even by offering to show her the fan stitch—no, she would not do that, +either; but if Calista asked her again, she would not refuse.</p> + +<p>Smoothing matters over in this fashion was not the way to attain peace, +and Mary was destined to have a still harsher lesson.</p> + +<p>Calista ran up to Miss Meeks's room and tapped lightly, opening the +door in answer to the summons from within. She found Miss Meeks up and +dressed. She looked pale and worn, but declared herself quite able to +come down stairs.</p> + +<p>"I thought I would just tell you that the little girls behaved very +well and said their lessons nicely," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Did they? I am very glad. I think they are usually good, though I fear +I am sometimes sharp with them. Did they say their English kings?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, nicely; and I told them about King Alfred and the +oat-cakes, to reward them. Was that right?"</p> + +<p>"Quite right. I often wish I possessed the talent for narration +which some people have. It is quite invaluable in dealing with young +children. Will you please fasten my dress, my dear? I am glad you +succeeded in interesting the children," continued Miss Meeks. "I shall, +perhaps, ask you to help me again, some day. Miss Settson is very good +and conscientious, but she has an unfortunate manner with children."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I shall be glad to help you at any time, Miss Meeks," said +Calista, as they went down stairs together. "But I am surprised to hear +you say that about Mary. I thought she did everything better than any +one else—let alone poor me."</p> + +<p>"It is not to be denied that she does a great many things better than +'poor you,'" replied Miss Meeks, with a smile, which was not at all +severe this time. "Keeping her desk in order and copying her exercises, +among others. But different people have different gifts, you know."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I am glad if teaching is one of mine," observed Calista. "It +seems the only way for a lady to earn a living nowadays."</p> + +<p>"Surely there will be no necessity for that," said Miss Meeks. "I +supposed you were your aunt's heir as a matter of course."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no," answered Calista. "My aunt barely tolerates my +existence. I should not be one bit surprised at her throwing me on my +own resources any day. So, Miss Meeks, I shall be glad if you will let +me help you at any time, not only because I like to be of use, but +because I like to learn all I can."</p> + +<p>Unluckily, this speech was overheard by Antoinette Diaments. Antoinette +hated Calista with all the venom of a small and mean nature, because +of the scrape she had gotten into about Tessy's change; though Calista +had nothing to do with the transaction, beyond being an accidental +witness of it. Moreover, Antoinette considered Miss Meeks as her own +particular property, and had hitherto, as we have said, succeeded in +keeping that lady very much in the dark as to her real character. She, +therefore, instantly resolved to "put a spoke in Calista's wheel," as +she elegantly expressed it.</p> + +<p>"Well, Calista, I should think you would be ashamed to ask such a thing +of Miss Meeks, after the way you were talking and laughing about her +not half an hour ago."</p> + +<p>Miss Meeks's pale cheek flushed, and she cast one of her old suspicious +glances at Calista.</p> + +<p>"Antoinette, what do you mean?" exclaimed Calista. "I have not said a +word to any one but Mary Settson about Miss Meeks."</p> + +<p>"Just so; and you were laughing with her about Miss Meeks's throne and +sceptre. I heard you myself."</p> + +<p>"You can ask Mary about it, Miss Meeks," said Calista. "Here she is. +Mary, Antoinette says I was laughing about Miss Meeks to you this +morning. Is that true?"</p> + +<p>Calista spoke with a trust in Mary's uprightness as firm as her trust +in the ground she walked on. But even the ground is sometimes shaken. +Mary had opened the gate of her heart to the world, and the world in +turn opened to its friend the devil. If the ground had, indeed, opened +under her feet, Calista could not have been more astounded than she was +when Mary answered:</p> + +<p>"I don't know, of course, whether you were laughing at her or not. You +certainly were laughing when you told me that you had been sitting in +her throne and wielding her sceptre, and when you told how you went to +her room and found her sick."</p> + +<p>Calista's face grew pale, and then flushed with honest indignation and +wounded feeling.</p> + +<p>"Mary!"</p> + +<p>It was all she said. Miss Meeks looked keenly from one to another. +She was clear-sighted enough when not blinded by prejudice or by the +irritability of suppressed suffering, and she knew Mary's weakness far +better than did Mary herself.</p> + +<p>"I shall believe what you say, Calista," said she. "Did you mean to +turn me into ridicule or not?"</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Meeks, I never thought of such a thing—never." said Calista, +with emphasis. "I did use those words, as any one might; but I no more +thought of turning you into ridicule, or above all laughing about your +illness, than I should think of laughing about my own dead mother."</p> + +<p>"I believe you," said Miss Meeks. "You have your faults, but I never +knew untruth to be one of them. To show you that I trust you, I shall, +if agreeable to you, request Miss McPherson to allow you to sit with me +in the small room this afternoon and oversee the children's work."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Meeks; I shall like it very much," said Calista, and +she turned away and followed the teacher into the dining-room, without +so much as looking at Mary.</p> + +<p>She usually enjoyed the school dinners, which, if plain, were abundant +and dealt out without stint; but to-day her roast mutton and cherry +pie tart seemed to choke her. That Mary should use her so! She did not +wonder at Antoinette; but Mary—Mary, whom she had looked upon as the +very pattern and exemplar of all that was good, and loved with the +passionate love of a first friendship. It seemed to Calista as if she +would never believe in anybody again.</p> + +<p>If Calista was sorrowful, Mary herself was utterly wretched. At first +she had tried to excuse herself to herself—to gloss the matter over as +she had done with a good many things lately; but it would not do. She +felt that she had told a lie, and meant to tell one, though every word +she had said had been literally true. Calista had used these words, +and had laughed as she did so; but Mary knew well enough that she had +conveyed a false impression, and meant to convey one; that Calista had +not laughed at Miss Meeks, but on the contrary had spoken of her with +the greatest kindness.</p> + +<p>Ever since she had first been awakened in religious matters, Mary had +cultivated the habit (and a most useful and excellent one it is) of +retiring a few minutes at noon for self-examination and prayer. As she +entered her room this day, she was strongly tempted to omit her usual +exercise, and hurry down stairs; but the habit was too strong for her. +She sat down in her usual place, and almost mechanically opened her +Bible.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy +brother hath aught against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar, +and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and +offer thy gift." (Matt. 5:23, 24.)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Mary shut her book almost impatiently, and opened again.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any +man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." (1 John +2:15.)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>There was not much comfort in that, either. She wished to find some +"promise" on which she might dwell and meditate or imagine herself into +a state of complacency; but One was dealing with her who would allow no +such comfortable self-deception. She was, as it were, set down before +the mirror of truth and made to see herself, and that in despite of +her will to the contrary. What had she done? She had been envious of +another's pleasure and honor, and she had allowed herself to indulge in +a slanderous misrepresentation to injure her best friend, because that +friend had been accidentally preferred before her. Nor was she allowed +to take refuge in the idea that she had been overcome by a sudden and +irresistible temptation. She knew better. Her fall had not been sudden, +as indeed such falls seldom are.</p> + +<p>Looking back, she could see that she had been preparing the way for +just such a failure. It was true, as Calista said: she had allowed +herself to indulge in that envy which eats like a canker. She had not +liked to hear any one praised but herself for a long time past. She had +done her work in school and at home, not for her Lord and Master, but +that she might be seen of men.</p> + +<p>The same was true of her charitable work among the poor children whom +she taught and helped to clothe. She had been provoked downright when +Mrs. Lee showed her the pretty and useful little dress which Belle +Adair had made out of one of her own for poor Chloe Jackson's youngest +girl, and she turned scarlet as she remembered how she had taken +occasion to say that Belle was a very gay girl who would never listen +to a serious word.</p> + +<p>And now she had wounded Calista to the heart, and disgraced herself +in the eyes of her teacher and herself, all for what? Because Calista +had been asked to do, and had done well, something which she did not +like, and never undertook willingly. Calista had been praised, that was +enough.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what shall I do! What shall I do!" said Mary, almost aloud, and +with bitter tears of grief and self-abasement. She opened her Bible and +read again:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do +the first works." (Rev. 2:5.)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>And again:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is +not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive +us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:8, +9.)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Clearly this was the right and only way to peace. Mary knelt down and +then and there confessed this her besetting sin, asked for deliverance +and forgiveness, and that cleansing promised to all who seek it. She +did not deceive herself now, but called things by right, plain Bible +names—envy, emulation, slander, detraction.</p> + +<p>There is an old fairy tale found in almost every language, which has +always seemed to me to shadow forth a great truth. It is that of a man +beset by a demon or malign imp of some sort, for whom he is obliged to +perform all sorts of hard tasks and pay all sorts of penalties, till +he succeeds in discovering the true name of his tormentor, after which +the thing has no more power, but flies discomfited. Mary had called her +demons by their right names, and their power was broken for that time, +at least.</p> + +<p>She was still on her knees when she was interrupted by a knock at the +door and a call of:</p> + +<p>"Miss Mary!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miranda; what is it?" asked Mary, without opening the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing, only your pa and Miss Alice have gone out to old Mrs. +Skovell's, at Greenwich, and won't be back till night. I thought maybe +you wouldn't care about much dinner alone, so I just got you a cup of +chocolate and a strawberry short-cake and some sandwiches. But I can +cook some meat if you'd rather have it."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Miranda; I would rather have the chocolate than +anything. I am in a hurry to get back to school."</p> + +<p>Mary did not feel like eating, but she took a cup of chocolate and a +piece of the tempting short-cake, to spare Miranda's feelings, and +hastened back to school. She went straight to the little school-room, +where she knew she would find Miss Meeks. That lady looked up, when she +entered, in surprise and some displeasure. She did not like to have her +hour of leisure interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Miss Meeks," said Mary, in a voice which trembled a good deal, "I have +come to tell you that what I said about Calista this morning was not +true. She did use those words, but there was no disrespect in the way +she used them, and I am sure she meant none. She was very much pleased +because she succeeded so well, and I—" Mary's voice faltered, but she +steadied it and went on—"I was provoked because she succeeded, and +envious and jealous of her being praised."</p> + +<p>"So I saw," said Miss Meeks. "I am very glad you have come to a sense +of your fault, Mary. I hope it will be a lesson to you to check the +beginnings of a spirit of detraction, and I doubt not it will. I shall +have to ask your help this afternoon, after all, for I am not feeling +well."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I shall be very glad to help you," answered Mary, swallowing +a great lump of pride which would rise in her throat at that "after +all." "But where is Calista?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she has gone home. Her aunt sent for her. I felt sorry for her, +for I think she anticipated something not very pleasant. I fancy her +aunt is an odd-tempered woman."</p> + +<p>"Odd-tempered is no name for it," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I am sorry for her. I have had some experience. I don't know +how it is," added Miss Meeks, musingly, "but all my life long it has +been my fate to live with odd-tempered people."</p> + +<p>Mary could not help thinking that this fate was one likely to follow +Miss Meeks as long as she retained the infirmities of mortality; but +she said nothing, and busied herself with the basket of patchwork on +which the youngest children were learning to use their fingers. She had +had too plain and too recent a view of her own faults and infirmities +to be very hard on those of other people.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER NINTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE STORM BREAKS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>MISS MEEKS was right. It was with no pleasant anticipations that +Calista took her seat in the rickety chaise which her aunt had sent for +her. Old David, who drove, was evidently in a state of deep and dire +offence, and nothing could be got out of him except that Miss Priscy +was in one of her tantrums, and if Chloe was a-going to stand such +goings on any longer, he wasn't.</p> + +<p>Calista alighted and went straight up the back stairs to her own room, +hoping for a few minutes of solitude in which to collect her spirits. +She was disappointed. The door of a certain store-room opposite her +own, which was usually kept fast locked, was open, and in it stood +Miss Priscilla, clearly in a "tantrum" of the worst sort. Her face was +flushed, her cap half off her head, and her gray hair all in disorder. +Opposite her stood Miss Druett, more disturbed in appearance than was +at all usual with her. Miss Priscilla faced round as Calista came +across the passage, and caught her by the arm with a grip that seemed +to crush the very bone.</p> + +<p>"So, here she is," she said, through her set teeth. "This fine young +lady, who prowls about the house, prying and meddling, to see what she +can steal. A worthy daughter of Richard Stanfield and his low-born +scheming wife!"</p> + +<p>"Take your hand off my arm, Aunt Priscilla!" said Calista, in a voice +which sounded strange to herself. "Do you hear me?"</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla released her arm; but it was only to pour out a renewed +flood of abuse, directed to Calista herself, her father and mother, +Miss McPherson, and every one else for whom Calista had any regard, +or with whom she had any connection. At last, as she paused to take +breath, Calista said coolly,—</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I should like to know what all this is about?"</p> + +<p>"About!" Miss Priscilla fairly gasped. "You dare to ask such a +question?"</p> + +<p>"It does not take any particular bravery that I know of," answered +Calista, whose own blood was up by this time. "When one sees an old +lady raving like a mad woman, one naturally likes to know the reason, +if she has any."</p> + +<p>"Calista!" said Miss Druett, warningly.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, you—you spy and traitor—did you not go into the back parlor +and pull over the book-cases, and into my father's room? Tell me this +instant. Dare you deny it?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I deny it?" asked Calista. "Where was the harm? I was here +alone, and I went to look for something to amuse myself with, and to +see what there was in the house."</p> + +<p>"And what did you carry off? What did you steal?"</p> + +<p>"As it happened, there was nothing in the book-case I looked into +that was worth stealing, unless it were this old working-case," said +Calista, producing the article in question from her pocket. "That has a +good pair of small scissors in it, and I want a pair, so I took them to +use. There they are, if you want them."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla snatched the case from her hand.</p> + +<p>"So, you took it to school, did you? Well, you won't take anything else +to school very soon. You have had all the schooling you will get for +some time, my fine lady. I will find you plenty of work at home."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla turned into the little store-room, and began taking down +the dusty, moth-eaten garments with which the walls were plentifully +hung. Calista followed her into the room, reckless of consequences, for +she had caught sight of something which made her forget everything, +even her aunt's rage. The something was a pile of two or three +trunks—old-fashioned heavy leather portmanteaus—marked on the end +"Calista Folsom."</p> + +<p>Calista remembered them on the instant. They were the very trunks Miss +Malvina had shown her, and on which she had made the little girl spell +out the name, so many years ago.</p> + +<p>"My mother's trunks!" exclaimed Calista, feeling as if she must have +them, whether or no. "My own mother's things! Oh, Aunt Priscilla, let +me have them, and I will do anything for you—anything you tell me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you will!" said Miss Priscilla, with a malicious smile. "You are +very submissive all at once. I fancy, before we have done, you will do +what I tell you without any trunks."</p> + +<p>"For shame, Priscilla!" said Miss Druett's deep voice. "How can you +expose yourself so? The child has done no harm. She has not even been +disobedient, that I see, though she may have been indiscreet. Let her +have her mother's trunks—she has the best right to them—and say no more +about the matter."</p> + +<p>"How dare you!" said Miss Priscilla, turning furiously upon her. "You +are no better than she. Do you think I don't know you? Don't I know how +you fell in love with Richard Stanfield and tried to get him, though he +cared no more for you than for his old shoes, and so you take the part +of his girl now. You shall leave my house. Yes, all of you. I won't +have such a crew of spies and thieves about me any longer."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett looked straight at Priscilla all the time she was speaking, +without uttering a word or moving a muscle of her countenance. Then she +said quite calmly, without a tremor in her singular, musically harsh +voice:</p> + +<p>"Very well, Priscilla; you shall not tell me twice to leave your house +after all these years. But I advise you to think again before you +disgrace yourself without remedy."</p> + +<p>So saying, she went into her own room and shut the door.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla looked after her a moment. Then she pushed Calista into +her own room, and threw after her a heap of the musty-smelling woollen +garments which she had taken down from the nails.</p> + +<p>"There is some fancy work for you, since you want amusement," said she. +"You shall cut every one of them into carpet-rags before you leave that +room."</p> + +<p>She closed the door, and Calista heard her lock that and the room +opposite before she went down stairs.</p> + +<p>Calista, though she had been so cool with her aunt, was in a tempest of +rage and mortification. She had never met with any personal violence +before, except a box on the ear now and then when she was a little +girl. And now to be so insulted and degraded before the servants; +to hear her father and mother abused and slandered; to see her own +mother's property, and not to be allowed to touch it,—it was too much. +Her head swam, her eyes seemed full to bursting, and she felt as though +she could have killed Aunt Priscilla on the spot. A burst of tears came +at last to her relief. She cried passionately for a long time, till her +mood calmed itself. And she began to consider her situation and think +what she had better do.</p> + +<p>Look at it as she would, she could not see that she had done anything +very wrong. True, she had put the working-case in her pocket, but she +certainly had no intention of stealing it; and though she had been +tempted to take the gold pieces, she had not touched them with her +little finger. She did not feel that she had wronged Miss Priscilla in +any way. Neither could she feel under any obligation to her. Kindness +she had had none, and as to support, it was clear from Mr. Settson's +story that her grandfather had intended to give her father his share +of the estate, which, therefore, owed her much more than the bare +maintenance she had received from it.</p> + +<p>She felt that she could not stay longer with Miss Priscilla if Miss +Druett went away, and that she would go Calista was pretty sure. At +last she made up her mind. She would go to Mr. Settson, lay the whole +matter before him, and be guided by his advice. At another time she +would have looked forward with pleasure to residing in his family, but +Mary's conduct in the morning had thrown a cloud over that prospect. +Perhaps Miss McPherson would let her live in the school for the help +she would give Miss Meeks and Miss Jessie. Miss Priscilla could not +keep her shut up always, and as soon as she was at liberty, she would +hasten to town, lay the case before her best friends, and be guided by +their opinion.</p> + +<p>Having settled this matter in her mind, Calista felt comfortable. She +bathed her eyes, arranged her hair and her dress, and looked about for +something wherewith to divert herself. She could not perform the task +of cutting carpet-rags, even if she had been so disposed, for the very +sufficient reason that she had no scissors; so she hung the garments +away in a disused closet, after examining the pockets of the coats, in +one of which she actually found an old sixpence.</p> + +<p>"Really, what a treasure!" said Calista. "I think I will hand it over +to Aunt Priscilla; or shall I buy a lead pencil with it?"</p> + +<p>There was nothing else to be found except an old pocketbook, which +contained nothing whatever.</p> + +<p>She took down her treasured "Cecelia" from its niche; but even the +story of the silver gauze and the trouble resulting from its purchase +could not fix her attention, so she took out her knitting, and found a +more effectual diversion in the intricacies of feather stitch.</p> + +<p>Calista had almost forgotten her trouble for the moment, when the door +was unlocked, and Chloe put her head into the room.</p> + +<p>"You are to go down to supper, Miss Calista, if that is any great +privilege," said she.</p> + +<p>"Who says so?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"Miss Priscilla. She says you are to come down now. Reckon she's afraid +to stay alone any longer. Well, I know one thing—if I didn't believe in +the Lord, I wouldn't be so dreadful afraid of the devil."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you would, now," said Calista, as she took up her work and +prepared to go down stairs. "I rather think those who fear the Lord +most are just those who have fewest fears of anything else."</p> + +<p>"I reckon you are about right there," said Chloe. "Anyhow, I know one +thing: I ain't a-going to stay here much longer. But I must go and get +supper."</p> + +<p>Calista descended to the sitting-room, wondering what kind of a +reception she should meet, and determining if her aunt laid hands on +her again, to leave the house at once. But Miss Priscilla's mood had +worked itself out for the time.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Stanfield—so you have condescended to come down?" said she, +in the bitter, sarcastic tone in which she usually spoke to her niece. +"And, pray, how many carpet-rags have you cut this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"None at all," answered Calista, concisely.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I suppose such work is not fine enough for your mother's daughter."</p> + +<p>"Neither my mother's daughter nor any one else can cut carpet-rags +without scissors, and you know very well I have none," answered Calista.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Is it possible? But if you had them, no doubt you would not use +them. Of course, Miss Folsom's daughter would not stoop to anything +so ungenteel. She must keep her hands white and soft, so that she may +catch a rich husband, like her mother."</p> + +<p>"Miss Stanfield," said Calista firmly, "if you say another word about +my mother, I will leave this house and never enter it again while you +are in it!"</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla looked at Calista, as she stood tall and stately in her +young beauty, and seemed to think she had gone far enough.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, child," said she. "Sit down and be quiet! Who cares +for your mother?"</p> + +<p>"I do!" said Calista, firmly. "And I will not hear her abused."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, sit down! What is that in your hand?"</p> + +<p>"The knitting I am doing for Miss McPherson."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla gave a kind of grunt, and the two sat in silence till +Chloe came in to set the table.</p> + +<p>Now, setting a tea-table is, in itself considered, an act of a peaceful +and even softening nature; but Chloe converted it into a declaration of +war by her manner of performing the same. She reproached Miss Stanfield +with the bread, upbraided her with the butter, defied her with the +milk, and, so to speak, threw at her head every article she put down. +She knew that Miss Stanfield detested anything like a clatter, and she +hit every spoon against every other spoon and every dish against every +other dish on the table. She made separate journeys to the kitchen for +everything she wanted, and slammed more doors than would have been +supposed to be in the famous palace of the one-eyed Calender.</p> + +<p>"Supper is ready!" said Chloe at last, when she could by no possibility +spin her preparations out any longer.</p> + +<p>"Well, why don't you ring the bell, then?" asked Miss Priscilla, +fretfully. "Where is Miss Druett?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Druett ain't a-coming down!" answered Chloe.</p> + +<p>"Not coming down! Why not?"</p> + +<p>"She says she is too busy. And I have took her tea up to her."</p> + +<p>"Why, what is she doing?" asked Miss Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"She is a-taking of her things out of her drawers and a-looking of them +over, and a-laying of them in her trunks," answered Chloe, with great +deliberation and an evident enjoyment of her words and of the annoyance +produced by them. "David and me has brought her trunks down out of +the garret, and David is a-going to take the biggest of 'em over to +Cohansey to be mended when he goes in the morning. And I have took her +tea up to her room, and she is a-drinking of it there, so there is no +use of waiting for her."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla took her place at the tea-board with an impatient—"Well, +there, you may go!"</p> + +<p>And Chloe retired, firing off another volley of what Mr. Sydney Smith +calls "wooden swearing," on her way to her own quarters.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla did not like to make her own tea, and that for an odd +reason. She liked it very sweet, and she never could bring herself to +put in as much sugar as she wanted. However, she poured out the weak +beverage and handed a cup to Calista, who received it with a formal +"Thank you."</p> + +<p>No more was said till, to her surprise, Miss Priscilla asked Calista if +she would have another cup of tea.</p> + +<p>"If you please," said Calista, with equally formal politeness, +determined to give no opening for another outbreak if she could help it.</p> + +<p>Not another word was spoken.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla composed herself for her usual nap, and Calista was +about to leave the room when she was recalled by a—</p> + +<p>"Don't go. Sit here with your work," which she could not but think had +something rather imploring in its tone.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether she really is afraid to stay alone," thought Calista, +as she resumed her seat.</p> + +<p>She knitted in silence till it was too dark to see; and then, leaning +on the window-seat, she meditated on the various things which had +happened during the day.</p> + +<p>She was gaining the mastery over her own spirit. Mary had treated her +not only unkindly, but, what was much worse, treacherously; for she +argued with herself that it was impossible for Mary so to misunderstand +her as to think that she was really laughing at Miss Meeks. Mary had +been at once her idol and her pattern for nearly two years; a pattern +unapproachable in its perfection, it was true, but still her model +of all that was good and lovely. And now that idol was fallen—a very +Dagon—in helpless ruin, and the fair model was chipped and stained—no +more to be a model, but only a sad warning. As Calista thought of it, +in her girlish exaggeration and passion, she said to herself, more than +once, "I wish she had died, like poor little Julia Lawrence, last year."</p> + +<p>Calista did not know what death meant, any more than any other young +creature who has only seen it at a distance. It is curious, but, I +believe, quite true, that young people are apt to think of death just +in this way, as an easy method of escape. She did not realize what +it would be to have no Mary anywhere within reach; no possibility of +explanation or "making up;" no possibility of finding Mary any more, +though she should go all over the world to look for her.</p> + +<p>She was but a child, after all, with a child's experiences. Still, as +she thought of the dead girl, with whom she had had a merry game only +the day before she had seen her laid out on her narrow white bed, her +heart grew soft toward her friend, and she said to herself that she +would try to forgive Mary.</p> + +<p>"I am sure she will be sorry when she thinks about it," she said to +herself. "I need forgiveness enough myself, for that matter; and Mary +has done nothing worse than I was tempted to do. To be sure, I was not +overcome by the temptation; but that was no thanks to me."</p> + +<p>And then Calista went back to her childish days, and began to recall +all she could remember about them and Miss Malvina.</p> + +<p>"I am sure those are mother's trunks. I remember Miss Malvina making +me spell out the name on the end—'Calista Folsom'—and telling me that +it was my dear mother's name, and that those were her things. Oh, if I +could only get possession of them! I mean to ask Mr. Settson if there +is anything to be done. There, Aunt Priscilla is waking up."</p> + +<p>In fact, Miss Priscilla roused herself and Chloe brought in the candles +at one and the same moment.</p> + +<p>"Druey—why, where is Druey?" asked Miss Priscilla, rubbing her eyes. +"Chloe, where is Miss Druett?"</p> + +<p>"She is up in her room, and she ain't a-coming down to-night, either," +was Chloe's answer, as she slapped down first the candlesticks and then +the snuffer-tray. "I've took her up a candle, half an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"But she must come down. What does she think I am going to do all the +evening? Go up to her, Chloe, and tell her—no, ask her if she isn't +coming down to play cribbage."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I can go, of course," said Chloe, "but it won't do any good."</p> + +<p>She departed on her errand, accordingly, and returned with the message +that Miss Druett was very tired and must be excused to-night.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla fretted, and all but cried, like a child deprived of a +plaything.</p> + +<p>"And you are no good—no good at all," she said to Calista. "I don't +suppose you could ever learn cribbage."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I am sure," answered Calista; and then, moved by a +feeling of compassion for which she could hardly account herself, she +added, "but I will try, Aunt Priscilla, if it will amuse you to teach +me."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla seemed to think even the prospect of teaching Calista +better than no game at all, and the board was set out. But cribbage +is a difficult game to learn under the most favorable circumstances. +Perhaps Miss Priscilla was not a patient or skillful teacher, or +Calista was more than usually dull. Certain it is that after a short +trial, she abandoned the attempt in despair.</p> + +<p>"There, it is of no use, I never could teach anybody anything. Put the +things away, child."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," said Calista, and she really was sorry to see the poor +withered, peevish woman deprived of one of the very few pleasures she +allowed herself; "perhaps if I were to try again—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, never mind. Take your knitting. It is very good-natured of +you, though, I must allow."</p> + +<p>Calista listened in amazement. It was literally the very first word of +commendation she had ever received Aunt Priscilla. She took up her work +again, and the two sat in silence till Miss Priscilla said, abruptly +but not angrily—</p> + +<p>"Calista, what made you go into that room?"</p> + +<p>"Only curiosity," answered Calista. "I was looking in the book-case, +and picked out some old books and papers to read. Then I tried the door +of grandfather's room and found it would open, so I went in to see what +was there."</p> + +<p>"And what did you see there? Come, tell me," said Miss Priscilla, +almost coaxingly.</p> + +<p>"Surely, aunt, you know what is there as well as I do, or better."</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind that. Tell me what you saw."</p> + +<p>"A great many moths, for one thing," said Calista; "the carpet is full +of them. And I saw a picture which I suppose was one of grandfather's +wives; a fair woman, with light hair rolled on a cushion."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is your grandmother. Well?"</p> + +<p>"And I saw another picture, a miniature of a young boy, which I suppose +was my father."</p> + +<p>"Well, and what else?" asked Miss Priscilla, as Calista paused. "My +father's desk is there; did you look into it?"</p> + +<p>"I did," answered Calista, briefly, determined to tell the truth at all +risks.</p> + +<p>"Well, what did you find? Don't be afraid to tell me."</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid," answered Calista. "I saw a good many old papers—I +don't know what they were. Then I saw an old seal lying in one of the +pigeon-holes, and took it up to look at it. Then I put my hand back in +the hole to see if there was anything else, and in so doing I touched +the spring that opened the cupboard door where the gold pieces are. +Then I shut it all up and went up to my own room."</p> + +<p>"Gold!" said Miss Priscilla, sitting up straight and startled in her +chair. "What gold?"</p> + +<p>"The gold pieces in the little cupboard, aunt. Did not you know they +were there?"</p> + +<p>"I! No, indeed! I have never touched a thing in the desk since my +father died—never been into the room since he was buried. How much gold +was there?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I did not count it: six or seven gold pieces—English, I +should think."</p> + +<p>"Where is the cupboard?" demanded Miss Priscilla, her eyes glittering +and her face flushed with excitement.</p> + +<p>"In the desk, as I told you," answered Calista; "it is in one side of +the desk, over the little drawers and shelves. Nobody would think it +was there."</p> + +<p>"Then I dare say there is one on the other side just like it. I suppose +you did not look to see?"</p> + +<p>"No, I did not. When I saw the money, I did not wish to meddle any +further."</p> + +<p>"Calista," said Miss Priscilla, in a low, trembling tone, and laying +her hand on Calista's arm, "you need not cut any carpet-rags, unless +you like."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Calista, dryly.</p> + +<p>"And—and you may go to school to-morrow, and—and the rest of the term, +if you will only go and bring me those gold pieces, and whatever else +you can find in your grandfather's desk."</p> + +<p>"I would rather not, aunt," answered Calista, proudly. "There might +not be quite as many as I said, and then you would think I had stolen +them. And, by the way, here is a sixpence I found in the house this +afternoon."</p> + +<p>Habit stretched out Miss Priscilla's lean fingers to the sixpence, and +greed of greater gain drew them back.</p> + +<p>"You may keep the sixpence, child—only don't waste it—and perhaps I +will give you more some time. No, I won't think you stole anything. +Come, do go and bring that gold. It isn't safe. Some one else might +find it."</p> + +<p>"Why not go yourself, aunt?" asked Calista, surprised at her aunt's +pertinacity. "I will hold the light for you, if that will do any good."</p> + +<p>"No, no, I cannot, I dare not," quavered Miss Priscilla. "He might not +like it—but he would not mind you."</p> + +<p>"He! Who?"</p> + +<p>"Your grandfather, child. No, no, I can't go in, but you will go. Come, +now, I know you will."</p> + +<p>"Very well, I will go," said Calista. "Even if my grandfather were +there, he has no reason to be angry with me. I have never gone against +his will, or kept from him anything he ought to have known. Let me take +the candle, and I will go."</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding Calista's bold words, she could not restrain a tremor +when she found herself alone in the large, lofty, gloomy room. She +was, however, no coward to give way to groundless fear, superstitious +or otherwise. She set down her candle and opened the desk deliberately +enough and began her search for the secret spring. Still she could not +get rid of the feeling that some one or something was watching her. +She was sure she heard a subdued stir somewhere, and, glancing toward +the opening in the shutters, she felt almost certain that an eye was +looking down upon her.</p> + +<p>She looked again—a straight, steady look. Nothing was to be seen, and +she smiled at her own fancy.</p> + +<p>"What a goose I am!" she said to herself, as she found and touched the +spring which opened the secret cupboard.</p> + +<p>The door flew open, and there lay the pieces as she had left them, +eight in number.</p> + +<p>She felt all round the cupboard, but there was nothing more. Further +search, however, developed a corresponding recess on the other side, +containing another gold piece, a lady's old-fashioned gold watch, with +a heavy chain and seals, and two or three ornaments set with amethyst +and pearls—pretty, but of no great value.</p> + +<p>Calista collected all in her handkerchief, and, assuring herself by a +hasty search that there was nothing more, she closed the desk and took +up her candle. At that moment she heard a slight rustle, and looking up +she saw, or fancied she saw, the same eye at the hole in the shutters +watching her movements. She walked straight toward the window, holding +up the candle, but there was nothing to be seen.</p> + +<p>"It must have been a reflection in the glass, or perhaps a cat looking +in," she said to herself. "One might found a good story on it."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla was sitting in an attitude of expectation, and started +nervously as Calista entered. She gave a childish cry of delight as +Calista laid the handkerchief open before her.</p> + +<p>"You are a good girl, Calista—a very good girl!" said she, in a +fluttered manner. "Let me see—two, four, five; yes, eight guineas—and +that is your grandmother's watch. You shall have it when—when you are +old enough to wear it properly. School-girls don't wear watches, you +know."</p> + +<p>"But you might let me keep it, aunt," said Calista, mischievously. "It +would be very convenient to have in my room."</p> + +<p>"No, no! You would lose it; or some one might steal it. You shall have +it when—when you are old enough. And, mind you, don't tell any of the +school-girls about these things."</p> + +<p>"Then I am to go to school again!" said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes—yes. You can go to the end of this term, and then we will see +about it. Call Chloe; I want to go to bed. And don't you think you had +better let me have that sixpence to take care of for you?"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER TENTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MISS DRUETT.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CERTAINLY Miss Priscilla was disturbed "by ordinary," as Miss Jessy +would have said, or she would never have gone up to bed leaving +Calista below. Usually she was driven off to her room with about as +much ceremony as a cow dismissed to her night's lodging. While she was +setting back her chair, and wondering whether she ought to go round and +see to the fastenings of doors and windows—a ceremony usually performed +by Miss Druett with great care and minuteness—Miss Druett herself +entered the room. She looked pale and tired, and Calista thought she +had been crying, but her eyes were as bright and her lips as firm and +resolute as ever.</p> + +<p>"So you are here alone!" said she. "I heard Priscilla in her room, and +I thought I would come down and see to the fastenings."</p> + +<p>"Thank you ever so much," said Calista. "I was just wondering what I +ought to do about it; and to tell you the truth," she added, lowering +her voice, "I did not quite fancy the task of going round alone, for I +could not help thinking there was someone prying about the house this +evening."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! What reason had you for thinking so? But never mind now. You +shall tell me up stairs in my room, for I want a little talk with you +before you go to bed. Meantime, if you are not afraid, you can go round +with me and hold the light."</p> + +<p>"Who will do this when you are gone?" said Calista, struck with the +thought as Miss Druett tried the fastening of bolt and bar in the great +dusky kitchen.</p> + +<p>Miss Druett sighed. "I don't know who will do a great many things," +said she. "I fear Priscilla will miss me more than she thinks."</p> + +<p>"She missed you enough this evening, I am sure of that," said Calista. +"She almost cried because there was no one to play cribbage with her. I +offered to try to learn, but I think I must be very stupid, for I could +make nothing of it. However, she did not scold me, and it helped to +pass away a part of the time."</p> + +<p>"Cribbage is a very intricate game, and Priscilla never had any faculty +of teaching. I think, Calista, if you are not tired, we will go through +the cellars—all at least that are unlocked. I should like to make sure +of them."</p> + +<p>"What a castle of a place it is!" said Calista, holding up her light +and surveying the long gallery, floored with brick, and with heavy +doors opening on either hand. "It looks like something in an old +romance. What is in all these cellars, Miss Druett?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all in most of them," answered Miss Druett. "There is some +silver plate and china packed away in this one, and a good deal of +valuable wine in that further one, at the end of the hall."</p> + +<p>"Here is a door bricked up," said Calista. "What is that?"</p> + +<p>"That is another small wine-cellar which has a history," answered Miss +Druett. "When your father was born, your grandfather had just received +a quantity of very fine Madeira, which had made the voyage to India. He +ordered two small casks to be placed in this cellar and built up as you +see, saying that one should be opened on his son's marriage, and the +other at the weaning of his eldest child."</p> + +<p>"And it has staid there, undisturbed, all this time," said Calista. +"Father and grandfather are both gone, but the wine stays on. Perhaps +it is just as well there as anywhere else. I sometimes think so much +wine drinking is not very desirable."</p> + +<p>"More people than you are beginning to think so," said Miss Druett. +"Well, as everything is safe for the night, we may leave these old +vaults to the centipedes and the efts." "Affets" she called them.</p> + +<p>"See, there is one now!" said Calista, pointing out the little red +lizard running up the wall. "Are affets poison, Miss Druett?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, child. I never ate one," answered Miss Druett, absently. +Then, as Calista laughed,—"I do not know what I am saying. No, I don't +think any lizards are venomous, though, I dare say, they might bite, +like other creatures, if alarmed or provoked. Are you very tired? Do +you want to go to bed directly?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," answered Calista. "Not if I can do anything for you."</p> + +<p>"Come into my room and sit down a little. I have something to say to +you, and I may not have another chance."</p> + +<p>Calista obeyed.</p> + +<p>The usually neat room was not disorderly—for nothing about Miss Druett +could be that—but disarranged. A great trunk, nearly filled, stood +open at the foot of the bed; a picture, which had always hung above +the fireplace, was taken down; and some books were missing from their +places. Miss Druett cleared a chair for Calista and took another +herself, but she did not seem in a hurry to begin the conversation.</p> + +<p>"Are you really going, Miss Druett?" asked Calista, presently, seeing +that she did not speak.</p> + +<p>"I have no choice, child, as things are at present. I have borne a +great deal from Priscilla, and if I staid, I should, no doubt, bear a +great deal more; but you must see yourself that I cannot remain in her +house after she has ordered me out of it."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. I only wonder that you should have staid so long."</p> + +<p>"Well, your grandfather and Priscilla's mother were kind to me when +I was an orphan and poor, and Priscilla and I were friends in youth. +Latterly I have had another reason for staying. You heard what your +aunt said, this morning, about your father." And Miss Druett blushed +a vivid carnation blush, which gave an almost unearthly lustre to her +dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"I heard it," said Calista, "but I thought it was, perhaps, only one of +the spiteful things she says when she gets angry."</p> + +<p>"It was true," said Miss Druett. "I am going to tell you a little of my +own history, Calista. It will help you to understand some things which +must have seemed strange to you."</p> + +<p>"I was left alone in the world at a very early age. My mother, who was +a relation of the first Mrs. Stanfield, was clandestinely married to a +British officer of high rank and small principle, at the time that New +York was occupied by the British. When the city was evacuated, she was +left alone, with a young baby, and no dependence but the old father +whose heart she had broken, and who was sinking into his grave. General +Stanfield, then recently married, found her out in her darkest hour of +trouble. She was then alone in the world, sinking in a decline, having +sacrificed everything to a man who cared for nothing but the amusement +of a passing hour. Calista, whatever you do, never make a secret +marriage."</p> + +<p>"I never mean to marry at all," pronounced Calista, with all the +confidence of sixteen.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Miss Druett, dryly; "girls like you never do. To +go on with my story: General Stanfield sent his cousin and her child +home to the old house here. My mother revived with the change of air +and the generous diet, and lived till I was about five and Priscilla +twelve years old. Yes, there was all that difference in our ages, yet +we were constant companions and friends.</p> + +<p>"It was not a happy household. Two people less fitted to live together +than General and Mrs. Stanfield were, perhaps, never united. He was +open-hearted, liberal to a fault, fond of gayety, and much given +to hospitality, both to rich and poor. She was proud and reserved, +standing much on her dignity, very strict and narrow in all her +notions, and as fond of saving as Priscilla herself. It was she who +taught Priscilla to regard economy as an end, not a means. To save +the consumption of a candle or an ounce of butter; to make a sixpence +stretch as far as a shilling; to keep the whole household on half +rations when the General went away—these were the triumphs of which she +was most proud, and for which she lived. I heard her say once that she +meant to save something for herself and Priscilla when the General was +dead. But she died long before him.</p> + +<p>"Priscilla mourned her sincerely; but she found consolation in walking +in her mother's steps. But her reign was not a long one. In less than +two years the General brought home another bride, not so very much +older than Priscilla herself. She was a sweet, gentle, pretty creature, +but she was not a fool by any means. She had a great deal of steady +principle, and was very religious. She would go to church every Sunday, +and read the Bible, both alone and with the servants. At first she had +both the General and Priscilla against her; but latterly the General +was won to go to church with her once on Sunday; and, though he never +made any profession of Christianity, I think his feelings toward it +were a good deal softened before he died.</p> + +<p>"A cousin of my poor mother's, who had a good and popular school in +Philadelphia, wrote, offering to give me an education, and General +Stanfield accepted the offer for me. I staid with her ten years; first +as pupil, then as teacher; till she died and the school was broken up. +My cousin ought to have left a good fortune; but she was unfortunate +and lost a good deal of money. The estate was divided, and all that +fell to my share was a small house, a little way out of Philadelphia, +and about a hundred dollars. Priscilla wrote for me to come to her, +and I came. At this time, Richard—your father—was a gay young man, +in college, coming home for his vacations, and turning his father +and every one else—except Priscilla—round his finger, by his winning +and coaxing ways. Even Priscilla herself was won by him while he was +present, though she hated him when he was away."</p> + +<p>"Why did she hate him?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"Principally because he was extravagant and your grandfather indulged +him in every whim. I cannot dwell on that part of it," said Miss +Druett, with that vivid blush again. "He never cared for me. I don't +suppose he ever imagined that I could care for him. I would have laid +down my life for him, but he did not want it. I never supposed that +even Priscilla suspected me till this afternoon. I had a long illness, +and when I rose up from it, I was a soured, hardened, elderly woman.</p> + +<p>"Then came the news of your father's death. Priscilla kept it to +herself for a long time; your grandfather never knew it at all."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell him?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"Because I did not know it myself. Priscilla always made a point +of going to the office herself, and all the letters went through +her hands. The first I ever heard of the event was when one of your +mother's cousins wrote of her death. Your grandfather had been dead +about six months then; and one day, to my utter amazement, Priscilla +said to me,—</p> + +<p>"'Druey, I am going to bring home that girl of Richard Stanfield's. A +child like that won't cost much to keep, and when she grows up, she can +be useful in the house. I want you to go and bring her here.'</p> + +<p>"'Why, where are her parents?' was my natural question.</p> + +<p>"And then, for the first time, I learned that Richard Stanfield and his +wife were both dead.</p> + +<p>"You know the rest of it. Do you remember anything that happened before +you came?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I do and sometimes not," answered Calista. "I have a kind of +shadowy recollection of my mother, as a pale lady, in black, who used +to dress dolls for me, and who taught me to say 'Gentle Jesus' and 'Now +I lay me down to sleep.' I remember a sickly, lame little boy I used +to play with sometimes, and an old lady I used to call Aunt Malvina. I +recollect her perfectly. She was feeble, and I don't believe she was +rich; but I was very happy with her. I thought of her to-day, when I +saw those trunks. Oh, Miss Druett, I do think it is too bad that I +cannot have my mother's things."</p> + +<p>"It is a very hard case, I admit," said Miss Druett. "You had better +consult Mr. Settson about the matter."</p> + +<p>"But, Miss Druett, I can never stay here without you," said Calista. +"You are the only friend I have ever had."</p> + +<p>"And I have not always been very good to you—have I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think you have—only you do say dreadfully sharp, hard things +sometimes. But you are not like Aunt Priscilla; and I am sure I can +never live alone with her. I should be afraid. Do you think she can be +a little insane?"</p> + +<p>"No; no more insane than any person is who gives herself up to the +dominion of one idea and the pursuit of one object," said Miss Druett. +"She is sharp enough about business matters."</p> + +<p>"She said, to-night, she had never been into grandfather's room since +his funeral," said Calista. "Do you think it can be true?"</p> + +<p>"I presume it is. She has an extreme dread of death, and everything +connected with it. Did you go in? I thought I heard you."</p> + +<p>Calista related what had taken place, and added that her aunt had given +her permission to finish her term at school.</p> + +<p>"I dare say she will take it back," she added. "She will want me to +stay at home and cut carpet-rags."</p> + +<p>"You had better say nothing on the subject, but take the permission for +granted, and go as usual," said Miss Druett. "I want you to do several +little things for me in town. But now, to finish my story: It seems +that my father, Colonel Druett, had his conscience awakened in his +latter days, and by his will left a few hundred pounds to his child and +a small annuity to his wife. His brother, who was his heir, never took +any steps to execute this part of the will; but his nephew was more +honest or less indolent. He took pains to inquire me out, a few years +ago, and actually sent me not only the five hundred pounds which was +my due, but two hundred more on account of the annuity which my mother +should have received. So that I have a reasonable provision for my old +age."</p> + +<p>"I wonder you should have staid on here under the circumstances," said +Calista. "Why did you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, for several reasons. I am attached to Priscilla, with all her +faults, and know that I am necessary to her; and I remember old +kindness at the hands of her parents; and besides all this," said Miss +Druett, with that sudden, lightning-like smile which so transformed +her face, "there was a certain wayward girl who had somehow contrived +to win her way into my heart in spite of me, and I staid to look after +her. And now I come to what I want to say particularly. I have, as I +told you, a small house in the outskirts of Philadelphia. If I can get +it into my own hands without too much sacrifice, I shall do so. Then, +will you come and live with me, Calista? No, don't answer now," as +Calista sprang up and threw her arms around her neck. "Take time to +think about it. It may involve a good deal. You know Priscilla has all +this property absolutely in her hands, and can leave it to whom she +pleases. The property has greatly increased in value with the advance +of rents, and she must leave a large fortune, supposing she does not +lose everything in some wild speculation, which is not at all unlikely."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" asked Calista, surprised.</p> + +<p>"She has already spent hundreds of dollars on lottery tickets," said +Miss Druett, "and would have spent more but for my influence. She +wasted nearly as much with those miserable treasure-seekers, and is +likely to do it again. I fear leaving her here alone. It is time for +you to go to bed now. I will give you some money to lay out for me in +the morning; and I should like to have you tell Mr. Settson of my plan, +and ask him what he thinks about it. There, good-night, child, and God +bless you. I have not made you as happy as I might, but at least you +know the worst of me."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The next morning Calista prepared for school as usual, and then went to +Miss Druett, who gave her a list of commissions and directions.</p> + +<p>"They will take you some time, but I dare say you won't mind. Only, if +you walk home, don't come by the river road. It is too lonely for you; +and I don't fancy having you encounter Zeke or his wife. Here, you may +buy yourself something with that," handing her a silver dollar—the very +first Calista had ever owned.</p> + +<p>"How nice!" exclaimed Calista. "Now I can have something of my own to +give away."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett smiled and sighed.</p> + +<p>"Richard Stanfield, all over," said she.</p> + +<p>"You don't mind, do you, Miss Druett?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, child; use it in the way that will give you most pleasure. +There, go; I hear Priscilla calling you. If she asks what we were +talking about, you can tell her."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, child?" was Miss Priscilla's first question.</p> + +<p>"To school, aunt. You said, last night, I was to finish the term."</p> + +<p>"Humph! Mind, I didn't say anything about another. What did Druey want +of you?"</p> + +<p>"She wants me to buy her some handkerchiefs and a travelling bag and an +umbrella, and to tell the man about her trunk. David took it in when he +went to market."</p> + +<p>"And did she give you the money?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, aunt."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla groaned. "Well, there, go along, child; and tell Chloe +to bring me my breakfast. Does she mean to make me wait all day? But +nobody cares what becomes of me. I suppose I shall starve when Druey is +gone."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she will stay, aunt, if you ask her," said Calista, secretly +hoping she would not; for the prospect of going to live with Miss +Druett, in the little house with the garden and orchard, had already +taken very strong hold on her imagination.</p> + +<p>"Mind your own business," snarled Miss Priscilla. "There, never mind, +child. Go along and send Chloe with my breakfast. And perhaps when you +come home, you will look in that room again. You might find something +else. Some people are lucky in finding things."</p> + +<p>"Very well, aunt. I have no objection, if you wish it," said Calista, +thinking again of the possibility of finding her grandfather's will. +"Only, I am afraid you will accuse me of stealing again, as you did +about the working-case."</p> + +<p>"No, no, I won't. Here, you may have the working-case, if you like; +only, don't lose it. It was your grandmother's, and perhaps she might +be pleased—there, do go and send up my breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Two presents from my aunt in two days—what is going to happen?" said +Calista to herself. "Oh, how much I have had to think about! It seems a +year since I went to school yesterday morning. How odd that she should +speak in that way of my grandmother's being pleased, when she does not +believe in any existence after death!"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER ELEVENTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE NEEDLE-CASE.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>WHEN Calista arrived at school, she found Mary waiting for her at the +gate. The occurrences of the afternoon had almost put those of the +morning out of her head; but the sight of Mary renewed the sore feeling +in her heart. How could she meet Mary and treat her as if nothing had +happened, after her treachery of the day before? Fortunately, she had +no time left her to debate the matter. Mary came forward to meet her, +with both hands outstretched and her face dyed with blushes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Calista, won't you forgive me? I am so sorry—so ashamed. Do, +please, forgive me."</p> + +<p>It was not in Calista to resist such an appeal. Silently the two +friends embraced and kissed each other.</p> + +<p>"I went to Miss Meeks and told her just how it was," said Mary, as, +with interlacing arms, after their old fashion, they walked toward the +school-room. "And then I wanted to find you, but you were gone."</p> + +<p>"Yes; aunt sent for me to go home."</p> + +<p>"So Miss Meeks said. Calista, you were right: it was love of the +world and its praise that made me act as I did. I saw that when I +came to look myself in the face. I think there never was any one so +inconsistent as I am," concluded Mary, with a sigh. "And how I have +lectured other people!</p> + +<p>"Well, you are the least bit given to preaching—that cannot be denied," +said Calista, smiling.</p> + +<p>Mary was a little piqued, notwithstanding her late resolutions. +"Anyhow, I shall never do it again," said she.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you will—dozens of times," returned Calista. "If you were to +see the state my desk is in, you would give me a lecture on the spot. +Come and help me to put it in order before Miss Meeks catches me."</p> + +<p>Somehow or other, Mary did not feel quite satisfied. She would have +liked to have her penitence made of a little more consequence. So hard +is it to put down in our hearts the love of the praise of men. She +was, however, conscious of the feeling, and, instead of allowing it a +lodgment, she resolutely turned it out and shut the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Calista! How can you ever find anything in such a chaos?" she +exclaimed, as the lid of the desk was lifted.</p> + +<p>Then, as Calista laughed, she put down a rising feeling of anger and +laughed too.</p> + +<p>"Well, there! You see it is second nature," said she. "But seriously, +Calista, if you really wish to be a teacher, you must learn to be more +orderly."</p> + +<p>"I know it; and really, Mary, I am improving. The fact is, I had all +the things out of my part of the desk yesterday, preparatory to a grand +'redding up,' as Miss Jessy says; but then came the summons to go home, +and I tumbled them back anyhow. Come, let us put it to rights before +school."</p> + +<p>"Was anything wrong yesterday?" asked Mary, as she collected a dozen +quill pens, and set herself to mend them.</p> + +<p>The making and mending of pens was a serious business in those days, +and took up an amount of time which no teacher at this day can realize.</p> + +<p>"Everything was the matter," answered Calista. "I never saw my aunt in +such a tantrum. She declared at first that I should not come to school +again, but should stay at home and cut carpet-rags. And she actually +ordered Miss Druett out of the house."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what she thinks she would do without her."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I am sure. She all but cried last night, because she had +nobody to play cribbage with her. I tried to learn, to pacify her, but +could make nothing of it. However, she was pleased with my trying, and +said I was good-natured—the very first time I ever had a word of praise +from her—and more than that, she gave me a sixpence."</p> + +<p>"Not a whole one?"</p> + +<p>"No, it has a hole in it, and I am not sure it is good; but I mean +to try at Mammy Bates's, after school. And more than that, she gave +me a working-case—the very one that brought down Alexandre on poor +Antoinette's devoted head yesterday. See what a pretty, old-fashioned +thing it is."</p> + +<p>"Very pretty," said Mary, examining the little case. "If I were you, +I would have Mr. Parvin sharpen up the knife and scissors. They are +very good yet. I wonder what rattles so in the bottom. Does this little +velvet tray come out?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I have not tried. Yes, see, it does lift up, and—well +I wonder what will happen next!" said she, as she turned up the case +and shook out two English half-crowns. "That is the third sum of money +I have found in twenty-four hours. I must be a lucky person, as aunt +says. I wonder whether I had not better try my fortune on the pirates' +treasure."</p> + +<p>"Why, what were the others?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, the sixpence, in the first place. That was in the pocket of one +of the old coats I was to cut into carpet-rags. Then I was looking in +an old drawer, and I found some gold pieces of grandfather's that Aunt +Priscilla did not know of. That was a lucky find for me, for it put her +in a good humor and gained me permission to finish my term at school. +But there, Aunt Priscilla told me not to speak of it," said Calista, +vexed at herself. "How careless of me! Please, Mary, don't say anything +about it, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Mary. "But do you really think Miss Druett will +go away? How will you get on without her?"</p> + +<p>"I shall not try," said Calista. "She has a plan for herself and me +which she told me to talk over with your father."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you will not have the chance to-day," said Mary. "Father +has gone up to Princeton, and will not be back till after commencement. +Cannot you tell me? Would it be wrong?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think so. She did not tell me not to tell," said Calista, +considering. "Of course, I would not want the affair talked over, at +least, not till it is all settled; but so long as I was to tell your +father, I don't see any harm in telling you."</p> + +<p>Calista then detailed her friend's plan; busying herself, meantime, in +polishing the handles of the different implements in the equipage with +a bit of chamois leather which she kept to wipe pens on.</p> + +<p>Mary listened with great attention to the end. Then she said, gravely:</p> + +<p>"Have you thought, Calista, how much this plan involves? If you leave +your aunt in that way, will she not be very much displeased?"</p> + +<p>"There is no telling whether she will be or not. One thing is certain, +I cannot and will not live alone with Aunt Priscilla. I don't think +your father would advise it. As to the estate, if that is what you are +thinking of, I try to give up all thought of it."</p> + +<p>"That is the best way, I suppose. And yet, do you think you shall like +living with Miss Druett? Is she not very odd-tempered?"</p> + +<p>"She is odd-tempered, but not ill-tempered, if you understand the +difference," answered Calista. "She sometimes says very sharp and +sarcastic things; but she does not delight to hurt and mortify one, +like Aunt Priscilla; and she is very just. You always know where +to find her. And she has not one way of Aunt Priscilla's which is +particularly exasperating—that of taking up some perfectly harmless +word or observation, and twisting and turning it into a great offence. +Then, I know all her ways and she knows mine. We are used to each +other, and, as old Mrs. Graves said the other day, when her husband +died,—</p> + +<p>"'We have lived together so long that we have got kind of wonted to +each other.'"</p> + +<p>"Would not you rather come to us, Calista, if it could be arranged so?" +said Mary. "You know my father spoke of it the other day."</p> + +<p>"Of course I should, for most reasons," answered Calista. "But then, +you see, Mary, I owe a great deal to Miss Druett. She was my only +friend for a great many years. I should never have had any education +but for her; and now that I look back at it, I can see how she stood +between me and Aunt Priscilla's stinginess and tyranny. I verily +believe I should never have been anything but a down-trodden drudge of +a servant girl but for her. She is very fond of me, in her way, too, +and she has no one else. So, if she wants me to go with her, I think I +ought to do it."</p> + +<p>"But don't you owe any duty to your aunt, Calista?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mary, I do not," said Calista, flushing. "I believe, at this +moment, my aunt is keeping me out of my inheritance, and enjoying—no, +not enjoying, but holding—what is my rightful property. She owes me a +great deal more than the bare support she has given me. But there, I +don't want to talk or think about that; it does me no good. See how +beautifully these handles polish. I believe they are gold, and not +gilded, after all."</p> + +<p>"I should think so, but I am no judge. I dare say Mr. Parvin can tell +you. See, I have rubbed up the velvet and morocco so that it is almost +as good as new. You ought to take great care of this case, Calista."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed; I mean to. I believe I won't take it out to the +play-ground, but leave it here in my desk, behind these books. My +pocket is worn so thin, it is not very secure. Come, let us go and see +what the girls are all about. Oh, by the way, will you go out with me +at noon recess? I have some errands for Miss Druett, and I ought to +have done one as I came along, but the shop was shut. It was about her +trunk that was sent in this morning. The rest can wait till afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Calista," said Mary Burns, meeting her at the school-room door, +"may I go to your desk and take out Miss McPherson's 'Deserted +Village?' She said you had it, and I want to learn a piece out of it."</p> + +<p>"Of course," answered Calista. "Why didn't you take it at once?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't want to open your desk without asking you," answered Mary +Burns.</p> + +<p>"What a terrible thing if you had done so!" said Calista, merrily. +"Who knows what dark and dreadful mysteries you might have discovered? +However, I will say, Mary, I wish all the girls in school were as +particular about such things as you are. It would save lots of trouble."</p> + +<p>"Allow me to remind you, Miss Stanfield, that 'lots of trouble' is not +a very genteel expression," said Miss Meeks, who was standing near.</p> + +<p>"I know it, Miss Meeks, and I stand corrected," answered Calista. "You +must allow that the sentiment was correct, though the expression was +awkward, as you say."</p> + +<p>Miss Meeks glanced sharply at the speaker, as if suspecting ridicule, +which she always was suspecting, poor lady. But Calista's smile and +glance disarmed her, and she said pleasantly:</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with you there. I hope your desk is in order, Calista. +You know I must mark you if it is not."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is, Miss Meeks; I have just put it all to rights."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps I had better look at it before you go back to it," said +Miss Meeks, smiling, as she turned away.</p> + +<p>"Just think! Miss Meeks made a joke," said Calista. "What is going to +happen? It is as great a wonder as Aunt Priscilla's making a present. +What is the matter, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," answered Mary Settson, resolutely bruising the head of a +little serpent of envy and annoyance which had popped up and hissed in +her heart at hearing another praised. "How does your work get on?"</p> + +<p>"Nicely. I should have finished the middle last night but for taking a +lesson in cribbage from Aunt Priscilla. I think I will knit the border +in rosebuds."</p> + +<p>"Do you think they wash well? You know you want to do up a bureau cover +pretty often."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; just as well as any other."</p> + +<p>Two or three other girls now came up, and the conversation diverged +to patterns, stitches, and other similar mysteries. Then Mary Burns +brought "The Deserted Village," * and asked Calista's opinion as to +what part she should learn.</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<br>* If, as I much fear, some of my readers have not read this exquisite +poem of Goldsmith's, I advise them to do so without delay.<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Take the character of the pastor," said Mary Settson.</p> + +<p>"Begin at the beginning and go straight through," suggested Calista. +"It is all worth remembering. I am doing that by the 'Lady of the +Lake.' It is very nice to know plenty of pretty verses, especially if +one has not many books."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Meantime, some one else had been at Calista's desk. Antoinette Diaments +had not expected to go down to Graywich till Saturday morning, but +her uncle from Philadelphia had called for her, and Miss McPherson +had excused her in consequence. She had seen Calista with the coveted +working-case in her hand, and had seen where she put it in her desk. +Finding herself alone in the school-room, the temptation to examine +the little equipage was too strong to resist. Just as she was about +opening the desk, Mary Burns entered, and Antoinette stepped behind an +open closet door watched Mary Burns as she examined two or three books, +stopped to read a page or two in the "Lady of the Lake," and then, +closing the desk, walked away with the book she had come in search of. +Then she herself went to the desk and took out the working-case. It was +prettier than ever.</p> + +<p>"What hurt will it do for me just to take it down to Graywich with me? +Nobody will know who took it, and I can slip it into the desk when I +come back. It would be serving her right if I kept it altogether."</p> + +<p>Antoinette dropped the case into her pocket and went away, first +tumbling over Calista's papers and throwing the whole orderly desk into +confusion. It was with a malicious smile that she saw Miss Meeks come +into the room, open the desk, and frown as she observed the contents.</p> + +<p>"I will teach you to interfere and get me into a scrape, Miss +Stanfield," said she. "I should like to be by when your aunt asks you +what you have done with her working-case."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Miss Stanfield, what did you mean by telling me that your desk was all +in order?" asked Miss Meeks, coming to Calista as soon as the school +was opened.</p> + +<p>Calista looked surprised, as well she might.</p> + +<p>"See here," continued Miss Meeks, opening the desk. "Do you presume to +call that order?"</p> + +<p>"Why, who in the world has been at my desk!" exclaimed Calista, too +much surprised to answer the question, or to modulate her voice to +the proper pitch required by the school-room etiquette, which Miss +McPherson and her assistants strictly enforced.</p> + +<p>"Miss Stanfield, are you aware how loudly you are speaking? You forget +yourself."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss Meeks," said Calista. "But I was so surprised, +I forgot myself, as you say. I assure you, I left it in perfect order, +as Mary can bear witness."</p> + +<p>"Indeed she did, Miss Meeks," said Mary, who had asked and obtained +permission to occupy Antoinette's vacant place.</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe me, Miss Meeks?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do, Calista," answered Miss Meeks, in a more friendly +tone. "But it is very singular. Who could have meddled with your +things?"</p> + +<p>"Mary Burns looked into the desk for a book she wanted," said Calista. +"Mary is apt to keep her own things rather at loose ends, but I hardly +think she would turn mine upside down in this way, especially as +the book she wanted lay directly in front, on the shelf. Don't you +remember, Mary? You put it there yourself."</p> + +<p>"She might have accidentally displaced the books, if she were in a +hurry," said Mary.</p> + +<p>Now, it was an undeniable fact that Mary Burns, with all her good +qualities—and they were many—was decidedly careless and untidy in her +habits; and being so, she was a continual cross and annoyance to Miss +Meeks. Consequently, she was no favorite with that lady, and it was +with some sharpness that she called:</p> + +<p>"Miss Burns!"</p> + +<p>Mary rose from her seat and came to Calista's desk.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Meeks."</p> + +<p>"What did you do to Miss Stanfield's desk this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Mary, coloring scarlet as she met Miss Meek's severe +glance, and the surprised looks of the other girls.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by saying, 'nothing'? Did you not open the desk and +take something out of it?"</p> + +<p>Mary was a shy girl and easily disconcerted; and she stammered from +sheer nervousness as she answered—</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am; I took out a book that Calista—that Miss McPherson—" and +here she stopped from absolute inability to articulate another word.</p> + +<p>"You mean that you took out the book of Miss McPherson's which she told +you to ask me for," said Calista's clear, reassuring voice. "Did you +notice then whether the desk was in order or not?"</p> + +<p>"It was, I know," answered Mary, recovering herself a little.</p> + +<p>"Allow me to manage this matter in my own way, and do not take +the words out of my mouth, Miss Stanfield," said Miss Meeks, +sharply—jealous for her own dignity, as usual. "Did you or did you not +meddle with the other contents of Miss Stanfield's desk, Miss Burns?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't meddle with anything; only, I took a book and read a little," +said Mary. "The book I wanted was Miss McPherson's 'Goldsmith.' Calista +had it, and I asked her if I might go to her desk and get it; you heard +me."</p> + +<p>"I am aware of that. What then?"</p> + +<p>"Then I did go and get it. It lay on the shelf. I did not touch +anything else, only the 'Lady of the Lake.' I took that up and read in +it a little and put it back. The desk was all in order then, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Well, it is very odd, that is all I can say; and a great shame," said +Calista, "to go and cheat me out of a credit-mark for order, when I get +so few. I don't mean you, Mary."</p> + +<p>"Allow me to ask whom you do suspect, Miss Stanfield? You say that you +put the desk in order; Miss Settson says same. It is found in great +disorder, and nobody is known to have been near it but Miss Burns."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about it, Miss Meeks. But I don't believe Mary +did it. If she had, she would say so—she would not tell a lie about it."</p> + +<p>Now, it had unfortunately happened that Mary's extreme timidity had, +once on a time, betrayed her into evasion, if not absolute falsehood; +and this Miss Meeks remembered, as, unluckily, she always did remember +anything which told against the character of a person she disliked.</p> + +<p>"I wish I were as sure of that as you are, Miss Stanfield. Please look +over your desk and tell me whether you miss anything."</p> + +<p>Calista looked through her possessions, and turned, first red, then +pale, as she pointed out a particular compartment in the desk to Mary.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" said Miss Meeks, sharply. "I see that something is +wrong. What do you miss?"</p> + +<p>"A little old-fashioned working-case my aunt gave me. It is the same +one that Antoinette wanted to borrow yesterday. Miss Priscilla gave it +to me this morning, and I brought it into town to have the knife and +scissors sharpened; and because my pocket was not very strong, I put it +away in my desk while I went out to the play-ground. I am quite sure +Mary did not touch it."</p> + +<p>"Did you see any one in the school-room when you were here?" asked Miss +Meeks.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am—yes, ma'am," stammered Mary. "That is, I saw Antoinette +Diaments come out of the room a few minutes after I did."</p> + +<p>Miss Meeks's face grew rigid with displeasure.</p> + +<p>"Your attempt to throw suspicion on a schoolmate will hardly save you, +Miss Burns. Miss Diaments left for Graywich at eight this morning."</p> + +<p>"I can't help that—I know I saw her," said Mary Burns, obstinately; +her own "Scotch" getting up. "I could not be mistaken. She had on her +bonnet and her gray riding-dress."</p> + +<p>"At what hour did you come to school?" asked Miss Meeks, turning to +Calista.</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly, Miss Meeks. It wanted a quarter to nine when I +finished putting my desk in order. I looked at the clock to see how +much time I had before school."</p> + +<p>"You can go to your seat, Miss Burns," said Miss Meeks, severely. "And +you will please remain there till the close of school. Miss McPherson +is unfortunately laid up with one of her severe headaches; but I shall +lay the matter before her as soon as she is able to attend to it, and +perhaps some light may be thrown upon other events which have occurred +lately."</p> + +<p>"Miss Meeks," said Calista, warmly, "you may suspect Mary, if you +please; but I shall never think that she either disarranged my desk or +took anything that did not belong to her—never!"</p> + +<p>"Miss Stanfield, you forget yourself. Go to your seat, as I tell you, +Miss Burns. This matter shall be sifted to the bottom."</p> + +<p>Mary obeyed with burning cheeks and a beating heart, and Miss Meeks +went on with the business of the school. At recess all the girls +gathered round Mary Settson and Calista.</p> + +<p>"Have you really lost your needle-case, Calista? Do you believe Mary +Burns got it?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," answered Calista, shortly.</p> + +<p>"But it could not go without hands, and who else could have touched +it?" argued one of the girls.</p> + +<p>"I don't know who did, but I know who didn't," answered Calista. "I +wish the old needle-case had been in the bottom of the creek before I +ever found it," she said to Mary, when they were alone. "It has made +nothing but trouble so far. I no more believe Mary took it than I +believe Miss Meeks did herself."</p> + +<p>"But, you must admit, it had an odd look, Calista," said Mary. "I mean +her stammering so, and her trying to throw the blame upon Antoinette, +who must have been ten miles away."</p> + +<p>"As to her stammering, she always does that," answered Calista. "As +to her seeing Antoinette, I don't know exactly what to think; but I +believe the truth will come out in time."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say you take the loss of your pretty case very +philosophically—more so than I should," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I am not philosophical at all, I am very much vexed," returned +Calista; "but I don't want to accuse any one falsely, and I don't see +why Mary should say she saw Antoinette when she did not. I am very +sorry Miss McPherson is sick; she would be at the bottom of the matter +in no time. There is the recess bell. Where is Tessy to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Emma, where is Tessy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she is quite laid up again with her ankle. She cannot walk at all. +She thinks it is the weather, but I don't," added the little girl, +with an air of wisdom. "I think it was going down to the milliner's +after Antoinette's veil, which she forgot. And do you know, girls, the +milliner would not let Tessy have it without pay, and Tessy was just +silly enough to pay for it herself, after all."</p> + +<p>"Well, she is a goose. Why did she do that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she thought Antoinette would be so disappointed. Miss Jessy is +as vexed as can be, and says Tessy's ankle will never be well unless +she is more careful, and that she ought to go to a hospital, where she +would be made to keep still."</p> + +<p>"It would be more to the purpose to send Antoinette, I think," said +Calista.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't make any difference," replied Emma. "If it was not +Antoinette, it would be some one else. Tessy's great trouble is that +she can never say 'no.'"</p> + +<p>"I think you are right, little one," said Calista. "If you see Tessy, +tell her I am coming up to see her after school—that is, if Miss Meeks +will let me."</p> + +<p>For it was a rule of the establishment that there should be no +room-visiting between day scholars and boarders without express +permission.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>In the afternoon, as Miss Meeks had her hands full with the sole care +of the great school-room (Miss Jessy being occupied with the care of +her aunt), she sent Calista again to take charge of the little girls +and their sewing, giving her permission to choose any one she pleased +to help her. Calista chose Mary Settson, of course, and they had a +pleasant afternoon. As she observed Mary's manner with the children, +she could not but own that Miss Meeks was right, sad that Mary was +not cut out for a teacher. Mary had a way with her that was not +encouraging. She set a copy or gave instructions in knitting with a +tone and manner which seemed to say,—</p> + +<p>"Well, there it is, but I have not the least idea that you will do it +right. I have no doubt you will blot the writing and pucker the seam, +and drop half the stitches at least."</p> + +<p>Calista, on the contrary, was always certain things would be done +well, or, if they did not succeed the first time, that they would +infallibly do so with a little more practice. The children felt the +difference, and so did Mary herself, and it cost her a hard fight with +her besetting enemy. But those who were for her were more than those +who were against her, and she was able to say to Miss Meeks honestly, +and without a quaver in her voice—</p> + +<p>"Calista manages beautifully, Miss Meeks. I think she would make an +excellent teacher in our Sunday-school, if we get one up."</p> + +<p>"I dare say," replied Miss Meeks. "Well, Miss Stanfield and Miss +Settson, I am much obliged to you."</p> + +<p>"Please, Miss Meeks, may I go up and see Tessy?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"You may go, but do not stay long. I think she is a little disposed to +be feverish."</p> + +<p>"Will you go, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I think not. I have a bit of work to finish. I will be ready to go out +with you when you come down."</p> + +<p>Calista found Tessy bolstered up on her little bed, with her French +dictionary and a volume of fairy tales which belonged to Miss Jessy, +and was only lent as a special favor. She looked pale and suffering, +but welcomed her visitor cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"And what is going on down stairs?" asked Tessy, presently. "I thought +I heard one of the girls say something about Mary Burns being in +trouble. The old story of mislaying her things, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, partly; it all grows out of that," answered Calista, +determined not to be the first to tell of what she believed to be Mary +Burns's undeserved disgrace. "I don't think it would have come to much +if Miss McPherson had been about; but you know people make mountains +out of mole-hills sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and the mountain sometimes brings forth a ridiculous mouse."</p> + +<p>"I suspect the mouse in this case will be ridiculous enough," said +Calista. "But, Tessy, what made your ankle so much worse all at once? I +thought it was almost well."</p> + +<p>"It was a great deal better," answered Tessy, blushing. "I suppose I +walked too much and too fast."</p> + +<p>"That is to say, you half killed yourself, as usual, running to wait on +Antoinette," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, I suppose that was it. You see she forgot her veil and I +had to go after it."</p> + +<p>"Why did you have to? Why could not she call for it as she went along?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I suppose she did not think of it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I know," said Calista, "or at least I guess. Tell me now, +honestly, did you not pay for it?"</p> + +<p>Tessy blushed scarlet, and cast an imploring glance at Calista.</p> + +<p>"Please don't tell, Calista; it will only get her into a scrape."</p> + +<p>"I shall not tell, because it would get you into a scrape, you little +goose. But I will tell you this, Tessy: if you ever want to be good for +anything in this world—or any other, I might say—you must learn to say +'No,' and say it good and strong; in capital letters, with a string of +exclamation points after it."</p> + +<p>"I think I could always say no if it was about anything right or +wrong," said Tessy, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure? Was there nothing wrong about this?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no. Was there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so. In the first place, you had no right to injure your +ankle, especially as Dr. Elsmore told you that a little imprudence +might lame you for life. In the second place, you know that Miss +McPherson has forbidden Antoinette to borrow anything whatever, don't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And if it is wrong for her to borrow, it is clearly wrong for any one +to lend to her."</p> + +<p>"But it wasn't lending, exactly. Antoinette did not ask me to pay for +the veil, though, to be sure, she must have known I could not get it +without paying, because Mrs. McPherson has forbidden any one to trust +the school-girls. Yes, I see, Calista, you are right, and I am a poor, +weak, silly fool, and always shall be."</p> + +<p>"Now you are going just as far the other way," said Calista. "I never +said a word about your being a silly fool. All I say is that you must +learn to say 'NO!' and say it good and strong."</p> + +<p>"It seems so ill-natured," pleaded poor Tessy.</p> + +<p>"Pray, whose good opinion do you care the most for, Antoinette's or +Miss McPherson's? But there, I did not come to give you a dose of +instructive moral sentiments. How does your work get on?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nicely; it is almost done, and Miss Jessy praises it up to the +skies. Don't you want to see it? It is in that drawer, if you don't +mind getting it out."</p> + +<p>"How nice your drawers look!" said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am really learning to keep things straight, thanks to Miss +Jessy. That is it. Spread it out."</p> + +<p>Calista admired to Tessy's heart's content the lace-like netted +curtains, with what we should now call a guipure pattern around the +edge.</p> + +<p>"They are perfectly lovely. Do you think they will sell?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; they are bespoken already by a friend of Miss McPherson's +from Philadelphia—that Scotch lady who was here the first of the week."</p> + +<p>"How glad I am! Mine is done, too, all but the border. I mean to knit a +double row of rosebuds. There, I must not stay another minute, or Miss +Meeks will be after me. Oh, by the by, Tessy, what time did Antoinette +go away this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean the first time or the last?"</p> + +<p>"Why, did she go away twice?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"Yes. She set out at eight o'clock, but something happened to the +horse's foot, and uncle had to go to the blacksmith's; so Antoinette +came back and waited till he was ready. She left the room here just as +the quarter to nine bell was ringing, but she did not go away directly, +I know. I heard her go into the school-room; I always know the peculiar +squeak of her boots. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Only that one of the girls thought she saw her in the school-room +after the first bell rung, and Miss Meeks said it must be a mistake, +because Antoinette went away at eight," said Calista, rejoicing in the +power Tessy had given her of so far clearing Mary. "Good-bye, dear; I +shall bring you some flowers Monday. I know where I can find some late +laurel, and perhaps a moccasin-flower or two."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you! I do love laurel, and I have not been able to get out +to gather any this year."</p> + +<p>Calista went straight to Miss Meeks's room, but she had gone out. Miss +Jessy was sitting with Miss McPherson, who had just fallen asleep, and +must not be disturbed on any account.</p> + +<p>"I don't see but I must let the thing rest till Monday," said Calista +to Mary, after she had told her Tessy's story.</p> + +<p>"You might call and see Mary Burns herself," suggested Mary Settson. +"But perhaps it would be as well to leave the whole matter till Monday, +as you say. Mary needs a lesson."</p> + +<p>"She may need a lesson, but I don't care to be the one to give it to +her," answered Calista, with some warmth; "and I don't think I should +thank any one for giving such a lesson to me. Would you?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," answered Mary; "and yet it might very good to me, for +all that."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't feel any special mission for doing people good by +keeping them in uncomfortable suspense when there is no need for it," +returned Calista. "I would rather do as I would be done by. Come, let +us stop and see Mary."</p> + +<p>They were disappointed again. Mary had gone to her aunt's directly +after school, and would probably stay all night, as her aunt was more +than usually unwell.</p> + +<p>"I can't go all the way up to Mrs. Rolfe's, that is certain," said +Calista; "and I don't like to leave a message either. Well, let it go. +Perhaps you will see her or Miss Meeks to-morrow. If you do, please +tell them what Tessy says. Come, I must do Miss Druett's errands."</p> + +<p>The errands were accomplished, and then Calista did one for herself. +With a part of her dollar she bought a pound of sperm-candles—an +article much cheaper and better than the parafine-candles which have +taken their place.</p> + +<p>"What on earth did you do that for?" asked Mary, as they turned into +the street.</p> + +<p>Calista laughed, and then became suddenly grave as she said—"I suppose +you cannot realize what it is never to be allowed a light when you go +to bed, except perhaps a mite of tallow-candle in winter."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you never have a light in your own room!"</p> + +<p>"Neither light nor fire, except as I told you, in the dead of winter."</p> + +<p>"But Miss Druett—"</p> + +<p>"Miss Druett helps me all she can; but Aunt Priscilla keeps the keys. +Now and then Chloe makes candles, and then she contrives to save one +out for me. Good-bye, Mary. Do say a kind word to Mary Burns, if you +get a chance. I am just as sure of her innocence as I am of yours or my +own."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Calista had just reached the place where the river road turned off, +when the rattle of wheels made her look round, and she saw Cassius +driving up in his neat, serviceable little Jersey wagon. He stopped as +he saw Calista.</p> + +<p>"Evening, Missy," said he, taking off his hat as usual; "I heard you +was on the road, and so I drove fast to catch up with you. Won't Missy +have a ride?"</p> + +<p>Calista gladly accepted the offer, and Cassius drove on leisurely, +entertaining his companion with various little bits of news.</p> + +<p>"Did Missy hear that we are to have preaching at the old meeting-house +every Sunday evening now?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Calista, very much interested. "I think that will be very +nice. Who is to preach?"</p> + +<p>"I disremember his name, though I have seen him often when we was both +young," answered Cassius. "He is quite an old gentleman now, and has +come to end his days with his niece over here at the Mills. So when he +heard there was no preaching anywhere rounds here, he said he would see +what he could do, and he got leave to use the old meeting-house. I am +going round to-morrow to tell all the neighbors. Won't you try to come, +Missy? You know what that pretty hymn says—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"'Tis easier work, if we begin<br> + To serve the Lord betimes.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"I will certainly try to come," said Calista. "It is very good in you +to take so much pains about the matter."</p> + +<p>"It ain't much I can do to serve the Lord these times; but I think it a +great privilege to be allowed to do the leastest thing for one who has +done so much for me," said the old man. "And, bless the Lord, he don't +look at how much we do, but how we do it. When that poor woman in the +Scripture put in her two mites into the treasury, the good Lord said +she had put in more than they all."</p> + +<p>"You love him, don't you, Cassius?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, bless his name, Missy, I do."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish I did."</p> + +<p>"So do I, Missy, for I am sure he loves you. Why don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I hardly know, Cassius. I suppose I don't think enough about it. +I have not had much chance, you know."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Missy, don't say that. You have been to church and heard the +minister preach and read about him, and you've heard the Bible read in +school. I'm afraid it is as you say, and you don't think enough about +it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so."</p> + +<p>"You will think, won't you, Missy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Cassius, I will," answered Calista, frankly. "And I will go to +the meeting if aunt will let me. Thank you ever so much for bringing me +home. Good-night."</p> + +<p>Calista peeped into the sitting-room. She had come to look on the +Philadelphia scheme as quite settled and certain, and she felt a sudden +sinking at her heart as she saw Miss Druett and Aunt Priscilla sitting +together just as usual. Miss Stanfield was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"Whose wagon was that I heard? Have you taken to hiring carriages to +bring you home?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite, yet," answered Calista. "Cassius overtook me, and brought +me home in his wagon."</p> + +<p>"Well, that is well enough. If you were a little sharper, you might +often get a ride and save your shoes. But catch you saving anything!"</p> + +<p>"Let the child alone, Priscilla," said Miss Druett. "Calista, did you +get the things as I told you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, they are all here. Shall I leave them in your room?"</p> + +<p>"If you please. I am just going up."</p> + +<p>"So you have made it up with Aunt Priscilla," said Calista, as they +were going up stairs together.</p> + +<p>Miss Druett nodded.</p> + +<p>"She came to my room, begged my pardon for what she had said, and asked +me to stay, and I have said I would for the present."</p> + +<p>"And so all our fine plan falls to the ground," said Calista, sadly.</p> + +<p>"For the present, as I said; but it may yet come to pass. Meantime, +here is something to console you."</p> + +<p>She put a bunch of keys into Calista's hand as she spoke.</p> + +<p>Calista looked at them in wonder.</p> + +<p>"What are these?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Keys," said Miss Druett, smiling. "Look into your room, and perhaps +you will find something they will fit."</p> + +<p>With a beating heart Calista, opened the door. There in a row at the +side stood the three brown leather trunks, marked on the end "Calista +Folsom."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER TWELFTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE TRUNKS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I KNOW it was your doing, Miss Druett. How did you manage it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought the present was a good time for some diplomacy, so +I made the restoration of the trunks, and several other things, +conditions of my remaining. You are my girl now, Calista, and must mind +me. I mean to be very harsh and tyrannical, so you must make up your +mind to it. I shall take out all my injuries of every sort on you."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that I made it one condition of my staying another day, +that you were to be delivered over to my care altogether, Priscilla +furnishing your board as long as you stay here, and I being at all +the other expenses of your maintenance and education. So mind you +don't tear your dresses and spoil your shoes running after flowers and +squirrels, or I don't know what will happen."</p> + +<p>"It is too much, Miss Druett; more than you ought to do."</p> + +<p>"No, I can afford it well enough; as things are, I have not much use +for money."</p> + +<p>"But you might live so much more pleasantly somewhere else."</p> + +<p>"More pleasantly, perhaps, but pleasure is not all, my little girl. +Here is my place, and here I must remain for the present. General +Stanfield was my mother's friend and helper in her sorest hour of need, +and I will stay and watch over his daughter as long as I can do her any +good."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are the only person who has any influence with her," +remarked Calista.</p> + +<p>"I think so too, and I don't know how long that influence will last; +but while it does, I am bound to use it."</p> + +<p>"But about the trunks?" said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Well, they are another condition. Of course, I cannot say in what +state you may find their contents, but they have never been touched +since they were piled up in that room."</p> + +<p>"I wonder Aunt Priscilla has not ransacked them long ago."</p> + +<p>"She never had the chance," replied Miss Druett. "I mislaid the keys, +and did not find them for a long time, and when I did, I thought it +just as well not to mention the fact. But now, Calista, I have one +or two conditions to impose as you, if this bargain of ours is to +stand. The first is, that you shall not go out, visit, or make any new +acquaintances, without consulting me."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I agree to that," said Calista; "I am only too thankful to +have some one who really cares what I do."</p> + +<p>"The second is, that you shall never speak disrespectfully to, or of, +Priscilla; it is not good for you or her."</p> + +<p>"I agree to that, too," said Calista. "I never speak of her at all, +if I can help it; never to any one but Mr. Settson or Mary, who +know all about her. I never fancied making family matters common +property—'setting all your broken dishes out on the fence,' as Chloe +says."</p> + +<p>"That is the true ladylike spirit," said Miss Druett. "You must come to +me whenever you want money, clothes, or books, and you must let me be +the judge as to your need of them. When I have time to look over and +calculate my resources, I shall try to make you a regular allowance +of pocket-money, though it will have to be very small. Take care of +your keys; keep the trunks always locked, and the keys in your pocket +or under your pillow. Now get yourself ready for supper, and mind you +don't say anything to exasperate Priscilla."</p> + +<p>Calista obeyed. It required some firmness on her part to resist the +temptation at once to open the trunks, which she could hardly believe +to be really within her reach. She made herself as neat as she could, +taking particular pains with her hair, which Miss Druett said was like +her father's. As she entered the sitting-room, Miss Druett sighed, and +even Miss Priscilla seemed struck with her appearance.</p> + +<p>"Just like her father," said she, half to herself; "just like him, mind +and body; and would make the money fly just so, if she could get it; +but that won't be in my time. No, no."</p> + +<p>Calista thought of her promise just in time to suppress a sharp retort. +She took her place at the table, which was rather better furnished than +ordinary, and helped herself to bread and butter without receiving +the usual rebuke. Indeed, Miss Priscilla seemed rather anxious to +conciliate her niece, and actually asked her two or three civil +questions.</p> + +<p>"Well, really, she got through a meal without snapping at me once," +said Calista to herself; "but I suppose it is too good to last."</p> + +<p>"Where is the working-case I gave you this morning?" asked Aunt +Priscilla, as Calista rose to leave the room after supper. "I want to +see it."</p> + +<p>"I took it to town to have the knife and scissors put in order so that +I could use them, and I did not bring it home," answered Calista, +telling the truth, but not quite the whole truth.</p> + +<p>"Humph! However, it doesn't matter to me; only I should like to know +how you expected to pay for it."</p> + +<p>"Why, aunt, you know you gave me a whole sixpence," answered Calista.</p> + +<p>"More fool I!" answered Miss Priscilla, gruffly.</p> + +<p>"And Miss Druett also gave me a little money—so I was quite rich."</p> + +<p>"More fool she!" again ejaculated Miss Priscilla. "However, it is no +concern of mine."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla composed herself for her usual nap.</p> + +<p>And Calista, dismissed by a glance from Miss Druett, stole away to +examine her treasures.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The keys and locks were alike rusty, but a little grease from her +treasured bit of tallow-candle soon removed that trouble; and it was +with a feeling of awful delight that Calista opened the long-shut lids, +and inhaled the odor of the spices, camphor, and tobacco, with which +Mrs. Tom Folsom and Miss Malvina had embalmed their contents so long +ago. It almost seemed to her as if she were about to have an interview +with her mother.</p> + +<p>The first trunk she opened contained only linen—real linen, and of +good quality—for, at the time poor Calista Folsom's wedding outfit was +provided, cotton was very little worn, except in the shape of chintz. +Calista found her own baby-clothes, pinned up in a separate bundle, and +shed some tears over the dainty sewing, the beautiful satin stitch, +and lace-like cut work with which they were adorned. The next trunk +contained dresses and other things of that nature, and Calista opened +her eyes wide at the three or four rich silks, the soft gray Canton +crape, and the beautiful, unapproachable India camel's hair cloth—such +as I remember seeing upon old ladies when I was young. Then there were +two er three white dresses, worked in deep patterns, with floss and +amazing lace stitches; a large white Canton crape shawl, and another +which Calista was sure was an Indian cashmere, of a soft, dusky, almost +smoky, red—such as no Western dyer ever attained or ever will—with wide +borders at the ends and narrow ones at the sides.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether I shall ever wear any of these things?" said Calista +to herself, as she carefully restored them to their neat folds and +wrappings. "But, oh, how I wish I could find something which tells more +about herself!—some letters or journals. Perhaps they are in the other +trunks."</p> + +<p>So it proved. The contents of the last trunk were more valuable than +any of the others. It contained a gold watch and chain much like that +one which Calista had discovered is her grandfather's desk; a box +containing an expensive set of ornaments and some beautiful lace—poor +Richard's wedding present to his bride; a number of books, among them a +Bible and Psalm-book, bound alike and marked with her mother's name. In +the inside of the Bible was written, in a legible but unsteady hand:</p> + +<p>"I leave this Book—which was given me by my own dear mother, on her +death-bed—to my precious and only child, Calista Stanfield. May it be a +lamp to her feet and a light to her path, which shall grow brighter and +brighter unto the perfect day!"</p> + +<p>On another leaf, and evidently by the same hand, was inscribed Richard +Crashaw's inscription in a prayer-book:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"It is an armory of light;<br> + Let constant use but keep it bright,<br> + You'll find it yields,<br> + To holy hands and humble hearts,<br> + More swords and shields<br> + Than sin hath snares, or hell hath darts.<br> + Only be sure<br> + The hands be pure<br> + That hold these weapons; and the eyes,<br> + Those of turtles, chaste and true,<br> + Wakeful and wise."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>The trunk also contained a work-box and writing-desk each covered with +red morocco, and having the key tied to the handle. Calista was just +going to lift out the writing-desk, when some one knocked and opened +the door. It was Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"Just as I expected," said she. "Do you know what time it is?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. Is it late?"</p> + +<p>"Only half-past ten—which is rather late for you. Put up your things +and lock the boxes for to-night, or you will have Priscilla in here. +Where did you get your candle?"</p> + +<p>"I bought it with some of the money you gave me. Was that wrong? It +does seem so hard not to have a light for anything."</p> + +<p>"Not wrong at all. I should have thought of it; but somehow it is only +within a few weeks that I have found out you are not a baby. Here, let +me help you. In what condition did you find the things?"</p> + +<p>"They seem to be all right. I don't think the boldest moth would have +ventured into the trunks, they are so filled with tobacco and camphor. +I believe I will keep out mother's Bible and Psalm-book. I know she +would want me to use them."</p> + +<p>"Very well. And, Calista, that reminds me of another thing I wanted to +say. Don't read a book in this house—I mean, not a book you find in the +house—without asking me. I don't want your young blood poisoned as mine +was."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean that I shall not read mother's books!" said Calista, a +little dismayed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! I am not afraid of any books your mother was likely to have. +There, good-night! And don't burn the house down."</p> + +<p>Calista fastened her door and then sat down to look over her treasures. +The Bible had evidently been long and carefully used, and was marked +from end to end with pencil marks, notes, and references. As Calista +turned over the leaves, it seemed to her as if her mother was talking +with her, so many of the passages seemed marked with special reference +to herself. But the most precious of all was to come. Pinned to the +last leaf of the book was a letter in her mother's handwriting, +addressed—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "To my dear and precious daughter, Calista Stanfield. To be given her +as soon as she shall be able to read and understand it."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Calista carefully unpinned the letter and looked at it before she broke +the seal, and a feeling of anger rose in her heart at the thought that +so precious a legacy should have been kept from her hands so long. But +this emotion passed away as she read the letter—just such a letter as +a loving, tender, Christian mother might be expected to write to a +daughter under such circumstances. It began with a slight sketch of the +writer's own life, and from it Calista first learned that her maternal +grandfather had been a somewhat noted New England minister.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether I have any relations living," thought Calista. "I +must try to find out some time."</p> + +<p>The letter proceeded to give some judicious counsel as to the guidance +of her future life.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "I cannot but feel that I have been hardly treated by your father's +family," the writer went on to say. "Certainly, I never intended to +injure them in any way. Nevertheless, for your father's sake, should +you be brought in contact with your grandfather or aunt, I beg you will +try to make friends with them."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>The writer concluded with a most earnest appeal to Calista at once to +give her whole heart to her heavenly Father, to put herself body and +soul in his hands, and strive to follow the steps of her Saviour into +all holiness and godly living, that she might not fail to meet her +friends at the right hand of God in the great day of account.</p> + +<p>Calista shed many tears over this letter, as was only natural.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will—I will!" she said to herself. "I will try to be a +Christian, like my dear mother. I will resolve this minute to serve +God, and to put myself into his hands."</p> + +<p>So she did, poor lonely child, and that in all sincerity; but she was +to find out that the gate was straiter and the way narrower than she +had any idea of. The "lion in the way" does not usually lie on the +threshold, but just a little way inside.</p> + +<p>Calista went to bed thinking that she should not sleep at all; but +youth and health do not often lie awake long. She was asleep almost +before her head touched the pillow, and did not awake till the robin +which lived in the great tree opposite her window began his usual +musical morning call.</p> + +<p>"It can't be more than four o'clock," said she to herself. "You stupid +robin, what did you wake me so early for? Can't you get up yourself +without making such a fuss about it? I suppose I had better go to bed +again."</p> + +<p>She lay down, accordingly, and tried to go to sleep for full ten +minutes. Then she decided that there was no use is trying any longer, +and she might as well get up and finish looking over the things. She +was soon dressed and seated on the ground before her treasures. She +opened the work-box first: it contained the usual working implements, +and one thing not often seen in these days—a thread-case, stitched into +long, numbered compartments, into each of which was drawn a skein of +thread or silk, cut at one end.</p> + +<p>Calista opened a velvet case with some trouble, and found, as she +expected, a miniature picture of her father. Fastened into the lid of +the case was a sketch, in water colors, of a sweet, fair, somewhat prim +and precise-looking female face, evidently done by no professional +hand. It afforded a great contrast, in its thin tints and stiff +outlines, to the beautifully painted picture on the other side; but +there about it that nameless something which showed it was a likeness. +The clear, well-opened, but somewhat hollow blue eyes, with their +level, even brows, looked at Calista with love; and the firm, but not +stern, mouth seemed as if it might speak. A shadowy remembrance came +over Calista of her mother sitting before a glass and painting, while +she herself sat on the floor and scribbled with a lead pencil. She +kissed the picture again and again.</p> + +<p>"She painted it for me—I am sure she painted it for me. My precious +mother!"</p> + +<p>But the writing-desk was the most interesting and important of all. +It was of pretty good size, and was packed full of papers arranged +in neat order. There were letters, which had evidently been received +from young friends, full of news and gossip about companions and work +and books, and also with more serious matters—news of a schoolmate's +conversion, requests for prayers, and the like. There were letters +from her father, written after he left her mother to go to the wars; +manly and tender, and thoroughly devout and Christian in their tone. +The last one expressed great regret at the writer's estrangement +from his father.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "I have written to him, and I hope you will do the same. I am sure if +he were only to see you, all would be right between you."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>This letter was endorsed,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "The last letter I ever had from my dearest husband. God's will be +done!"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Wrapped up with this letter was a very different one. On the cover was +written, in her mother's hand:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "I have been, two or three times, on the point of destroying this +letter; but have refrained, thinking it might, at some time, be of use. +I wish to record my firm belief that General Stanfield never saw it or +ordered it written."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Calista opened the letter. It was in Miss Priscilla's clear, cramped +hand, and read as follows:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Mrs. Richard Stanfield's letter is received. Mrs. Richard Stanfield +is hereby informed that General Stanfield wishes to hold no communication +with her or her husband on any subject whatever; and that no letters +from either of them will meet with any attention.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">(Signed) "PRISCILLA STANFIELD,</span><br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">"For Richard Stanfield."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>At the end was written:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Nevertheless, I wrote to my husband's father and to his sister at the +time when my child was born, but I never received the slightest answer."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Calista sat with burning cheeks, holding this letter in her hands. +Her lips were compressed, and her eyes full of trouble. She was not +thinking of the loss of property, not at all of herself in connection +with it, but of the cruel injury done to her mother.</p> + +<p>"Then she did know. She knew all the time. But Mr. Settson said +grandfather did not know of my existence, and it would certainly seem +so from what Miss Betsy said. She must have contrived some way to keep +the letters from grandfather altogether. Oh, how could she—how could +she be so cruel! And there was my poor mother working herself to death +to support herself and me. I never can forgive her—never. If it had +been myself—but my mother—to write so to my mother! If I cannot be a +Christian without forgiving Aunt Priscilla, I shall never be one. But +there is the bell. I must go down. Oh, how I did want these things, and +now I almost wish I had never seen them."</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"Forever by the goal are set<br> + Pale disappointment and regret."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>As soon as breakfast was over and she could get away, she renewed +her examinations. The trunk contained much that was of interest to +her—books of various sorts, chiefly religious and poetical; scraps +carefully preserved from newspapers; an old-fashioned water-color box, +well furnished with colors, brushes, &c.; a white frock, began but not +finished; and divers other matters of no interest to the reader. When +she had gone through them all once, she locked up the trunks and went +to Miss Druett's room, where she was pretty sure to find her alone at +this time, when Miss Priscilla, always methodical, was engaged in her +daily scolding match with Chloe.</p> + +<p>"See here, Miss Druett, what shall I do with these?" said she, showing +her the watch and ornaments she had found.</p> + +<p>Miss Druett looked at them with great interest.</p> + +<p>"I suppose your father gave your mother these things," said she. "You +must not keep them here. If Priscilla gets wind of them, she will leave +no stone unturned to get them into her hands."</p> + +<p>"She will never get them into her hands," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"She will try, though. You might give them to Mr. Settson, only he is +not at home. I believe the better way will be to leave them with Mr. +Fabian, at the bank. I could make an errand for you there, and give you +a note to Mr. Fabian. And yet you ought not to walk into town carrying +such a treasure, either. Let me think a little. Here, quick, child, let +me put them in my desk. I hear Priscilla coming."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla came in, evidently in a great fume.</p> + +<p>"Druey, I want you to go to town," was her salutation.</p> + +<p>"What now?" asked Miss Druett, with her usual coolness.</p> + +<p>"That man Anderson was to have been here day before yesterday, to pay +his interest, and he hasn't come. I want you to go and see about it."</p> + +<p>"I can't possibly go to-day. What does it signify? I dare say he will +be here to-morrow. He is always pretty punctual."</p> + +<p>"But I want the money."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense; you are not suffering for it."</p> + +<p>"But I want it," said Miss Priscilla, fretfully; "and you don't know +whether I am suffering or not."</p> + +<p>"I know I am," said Miss Druett. "I had earache all night, and if I +should ride to town in this wind, I should have it for a month."</p> + +<p>"You can wrap your head up," pleaded Miss Priscilla. "Come, Druey, do; +just to oblige me."</p> + +<p>"I would if I could, Priscilla. I want to go myself, but I am not able. +Why not let the child go?"</p> + +<p>"The child, indeed! What good can she do?"</p> + +<p>"She can carry a note as well as I, and do my errand at the same time. +Let her take the pony. You don't mind, do you, Calista?"</p> + +<p>"No, I should like it," said Calista.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla grumbled and complained, but finally decided that +Calista might do the errand, if she would be careful and not drive the +pony too fast.</p> + +<p>"I should like to see myself doing it," said Calista, laughing in spite +of her trouble. "Never fear, aunt; Jeff and I are old friends. I will +run and tell David to get up the chaise."</p> + +<p>"He knows about it already," said Miss Priscilla. "I counted on Druey's +going, but she thinks so much of her precious ears."</p> + +<p>"They are all I have, you see, and I might not find another pair to fit +me," said Miss Druett. "Never mind, Priscilla, the child will do the +errand just as well. Come to me when you are ready."</p> + +<p>Calista dressed herself as neatly as she could, and it was with a +mingled feeling of pain and pleasure that she hung over her arm a long, +soft, gray cloth cloak, which she had found among her mother's things. +Miss Druett noticed it as soon as she entered the room.</p> + +<p>"That is a very nice, pretty cloak; was it in the trunk?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am. The air is so damp and chilly that I knew I should need +something, and my old shawl is all in holes. I thought perhaps mother +would like to have me use it."</p> + +<p>"No doubt she would like to have you use all the things. Be careful of +them, that is all. And, by the way, stop at Mrs. Dare's and see when +she can fit your frocks."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she cannot do them at all," said Calista; "she has broken her arm, +and her niece has all she can do with the girls' examination dresses. +But I heard Cassius say that his step-daughter, Drusella Pine, was +coming here directly to set up dressmaking. I know Miss Alice had her +last summer, and was very much pleased with her. I might find out when +she is expected."</p> + +<p>"True, and with the horse you will not be afraid to come round that +way. If I were a little richer, you should have a pretty white frock. +However, we will talk of that another time. Here are your trinkets and +a note to Mr. Fabian. Take care you don't lay the bag out of your hand, +and go straight to the bank the first thing."</p> + +<p>"May I go up to the school and ask for Miss McPherson? She had one of +her bad headaches yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but don't stay. I shall feel rather anxious till you are safe at +home."</p> + +<p>"Why to-day more than any day?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am an old fool, child."</p> + +<p>"How foolish I have been!" she said to herself. "I believe I have been +of some use to the child as it was, but what comfort we might have been +to each other if I had not been so determined to nurse my anger and +grief all my life! Even now, at my age, I can hardly help being jealous +of the dead mother's cloak. Truly, the sorrow of the world worketh +death."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett did not often quote Scripture, but she had done so once or +twice lately. After Calista had gone, she went into her room to see +that everything was safely secured. Her eyes fell upon Calista Folsom's +Bible, and taking it in her hand, she sat down and read a long time.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"What have you been about all the morning, Druey?" said Miss Priscilla, +as they sat down to their twelve o'clock dinner. They were alone, for +Calista had not yet returned.</p> + +<p>"You would never believe it if I were to tell you, Priscilla," was the +answer. "I have been reading the Bible."</p> + +<p>"What ails everybody?" was Miss Priscilla's comment. "Here Chloe tells +me that old Mr. Alger is going to preach in the old meeting-house every +Sunday evening. There must be something in the air. We shall have you +turning Methodist and leading a class yet."</p> + +<p>"I might do worse," said Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>I incline to think Miss Priscilla was right, and that there was +something stirring in the air about the Stanfield neighborhood, a-going +in the tops of the trees, as it were, which might be a sign that a +gracious rain was about to fall on that hitherto dry and barren ground.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_13">CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CALISTA had truly said that she and Jeff understood each other. To +oblige her, he even condescended to trot. Just as she reached the town, +she met the delinquent Joseph Anderson, and stopped to talk with him.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Friend Anderson. I was just coming to bring you a note +from my aunt."</p> + +<p>"I was on my way to see her," was the reply. "I suppose she is in a +fret about her interest, as usual. I have had it by me these ten days, +but my poor sister Rolfe was so ill, I did not like to be out of the +way."</p> + +<p>"I heard yesterday she was not as well."</p> + +<p>"She is not long for this world, though she is more comfortable this +morning," said the old man, shaking his head. "Well, it will be a +glorious exchange for her, that is one comfort."</p> + +<p>"A great one, I am sure," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, thee is right; but then thee knows the heart will cling to +those it loves. Well, I must go on my errand and get back. Thee had +better give me the note, perhaps."</p> + +<p>Calista did so, and drove on to the bank, where she found Mr. Fabian, +an elderly white-haired man, of precise, polite manners, who shook her +by the hand, and complimented her on her growing resemblance to her +father.</p> + +<p>Calista presented her note, which Mr. Fabian read with interest.</p> + +<p>"Quite right, quite right, and very sensible on your part, my dear +young lady. Yes, I will take care of the things, and have them put into +the vault. I knew your father and grandfather well. Pray, call upon me +without hesitation if I can be of any service to you."</p> + +<p>As Calista was waiting a moment for Mr. Fabian to write a receipt and a +note for Miss Druett, she heard an old gentleman, who had been sitting +in the back office, say to him—</p> + +<p>"Is not that old Richard Stanfield's granddaughter?"</p> + +<p>"Granddaughter and heir, if every one had their rights," answered Mr. +Fabian in the same tone. "But the second will, if indeed he ever made +one, will never be found."</p> + +<p>"It may turn up yet."</p> + +<p>"Possibly; and then the girl would be a great heir, for the property +has increased tenfold in value. I fear the will will never be found. I +suspect some one took care of that."</p> + +<p>At another time this conversation would have set Calista off into one +of the day dreams in which she had so much delighted; but now her head +and heart were full of something else.</p> + +<p>She asked at the school for Miss McPherson, and heard that she was +better, and had gone out driving with Miss Meeks and Tessy; for Miss +McPherson kept a handsome, roomy carriage, and drove out with some of +her young ladies almost every day. It was not till she was on her way +home, and had turned into the river road, that Calista remembered Mary +Burns and the missing working-case.</p> + +<p>In fact, Calista's mind and head were full of a new and strange +trouble. A fierce contention was going on for that small empire—so +small, so great—a human soul.</p> + +<p>The night before she had fully determined to follow her mother's +counsel—to give herself heart and soul to him who had given himself +for her. But since then, she had read Miss Priscilla's letter, and her +mother's remarks upon it, and hence arose her trouble. This it was +which had waked up the lions which disputed her passage, and if the +lions were chained, she saw not the chains. She knew that to follow +the footsteps of her Lord she must forgive not only her own enemy—she +thought that would be almost easy—but her mother's.</p> + +<p>"Forgive if ye would be forgiven," rung in her ears, and she felt the +words were true.</p> + +<p>"If it had been only myself,—" she said over and over again—"but my +mother, my dear precious mother, who never did harm to any one in all +her days—no, no! I never can! Oh, why did she keep that letter! She +might have known! Oh, what shall I do!—What shall I do!"</p> + +<p>In her trouble of mind, she had nearly passed Cassius's modest little +house, but was recalled by a cheerful greeting from the old man, who +was cutting some wood outside the gate.</p> + +<p>"Morning, Missy! Don't you mean to stop and give us a call?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," answered Calista, recalled from her abstraction, and +pulling up Jeff, nothing loth, at the gate. "I will come in if you will +fasten the pony."</p> + +<p>Cassius tied the pony, and brought him an armful of fragrant new hay +from the next field, with which the attention of that ancient sage was +soon wholly engrossed.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Calista had alighted, and was receiving a hearty welcome from +Aunt Sally, who conducted her to the house and seated her in the best +chintz-covered rocking-chair, bringing her a fan, and sending a little +girl to the well for cool water.</p> + +<p>"Who is that little thing?" asked Calista, as the child disappeared. +"Your grandchild?"</p> + +<p>"Lord bless you, honey, no. My grandchillen's no such peaked, puny +little things as that, thanks to Massy. No, that's poor Maria Jackson's +child, that works to Mrs. Dare's, the dressmaker. You see, Mrs. Dare +she can't very well have the child round—she can't, really—and Maria +boarded the little thing out, down to Gouldtown. But the woman that had +her didn't do her justice—made her work far too hard, though Maria paid +her regular. Besides, she didn't give her half enough to eat. One day I +met Maria in the street, and says she,—</p> + +<p>"'Just look at this child, will you!'</p> + +<p>"And says I, 'For Massy, Maria, what ails her?'</p> + +<p>"So she up and told me, and Sister Wilson, that was with her, said it +was all so.</p> + +<p>"And says I, 'Maria, you just let me have her a few weeks, and you +won't know her. Don't you never send her back to that woman,' says I.</p> + +<p>"'But I don't know as I can afford to pay what it is worth,' says she.</p> + +<p>"'Never mind,' says I; 'you pay what you can, or don't pay anything. +Just let me have her a few weeks, and see what I can do with her. And +Cassius says the same.'</p> + +<p>"So we brought her home, and she's picked up wonderful in a week."</p> + +<p>"But I thought the Gouldtowners were pretty nice people," said Calista, +as she fanned herself and admired the cool, cheerful aspect of the room.</p> + +<p>"So they are—so they are; but Missy knows there's a black sheep in +every flock!"</p> + +<p>"They's all middling black sheep up to Gouldtown!" said old Cassius, +who had entered in time to hear the last remark.</p> + +<p>Calista smiled, and the old woman laughed they heartily.</p> + +<p>"So they are, old man—so they are; but that's only the outside. Bless +the Master's name, he don't look at their skins. And old Sister +Williams, she told me herself that the folks was up in arms about the +way this child was treated. But I'm most sorry we took her, for she's +such a smart, clever, lively little piece, I sha'n't never want to part +with her."</p> + +<p>All this time Sally had been, on hospitable thoughts intent, covering +a little table with a white cloth, and setting thereon white bread, +golden butter, a great pitcher of milk and cream, and various other +good things. Having finished her preparations, she invited Calista to +draw her chair to the table, excusing herself for having no meat cooked.</p> + +<p>"This hot weather we don't do much cooking. We generally eats bread and +milk, or some such thing, at noon, and I cooks something for supper. +But I can make a fire and boil Missy some eggs in a minute."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," said Calista. "I like this beautiful, cool milk better +than anything."</p> + +<p>"That's just what Drusella Pine says," replied old Sally, much +delighted. "She says, 'Aunt, we can get meat in the city, but we can't +get such milk as you have here—not for no price,' says she."</p> + +<p>"Philadelphy's pretty well off for milk, too, for a city," remarked +Cassius. "Not like New York."</p> + +<p>Cassius always spoke of New York with a kind of pitying contempt, as a +place which might come to something some time, but could never hope to +vie, either in beauty or importance, with "Philadelphy."</p> + +<p>"I wanted to ask about Drusella," said Calista. "When is she coming?"</p> + +<p>"We expect her to-night," answered Cassius. "I'm going to meet her at +the Cohansey stage and bring her out here. She'll stay with us a few +weeks, and then, I expect, she'll have to rent a room in Cohansey. It +is too far out here for her business."</p> + +<p>"I asked because I thought she would, perhaps, do some work for me," +said Calista. "Miss Druett wants me to have a couple of dresses made, +and she told me to call and see if Drusella could take them home and +cut and fit them."</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to her about it the first thing Monday morning," said +Cassius. "I don't doubt she'll be glad to do the work. I hope Missy +means to go to the preaching to-morrow night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I shall go," said Calista. "Thank you very much, Aunt Sally, +for your nice lunch. I only wish I could make you any return for all +your kindness to me."</p> + +<p>"Law, Missy, don't you think of such a thing!" said Sally. "Your family +has done more for us than we can ever pay."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Well, I'm glad the poor child is going to have some new frocks, for +once in her life," she added as Cassius came back to the house. "I only +wonder how she came by them. Have a drink, old man?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe Miss Priscilla's turning liberal," observed Cassius, accepting +the offer.</p> + +<p>"Maybe the sky's turning pea-green!" returned Sally, scornfully. "Maybe +that milk you're a-drinking is made of melted pearls!"</p> + +<p>"Don't taste like it," said Cassius. "Tastes like first-rate cow's +milk."</p> + +<p>"Much you know how melted pearls taste! There, now, don't go to work in +the sun right off. Sit down in the big chair and have a nap. Naps in +the middle of the day is good for old folks."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Calista arrived at home just as Friend Anderson and Miss Priscilla +had finished their business, which had not been done without some +wrangling; Miss Priscilla maintaining that the money was twenty-five +cents short.</p> + +<p>"Thee is in the wrong," said Jacob Anderson, "but I will pay the money +rather than dispute longer. I will thank thee for a receipt."</p> + +<p>"What is the use of a receipt when it is endorsed on the bond?" snapped +Miss Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"I'll trouble thee for the receipt all the same," said the old Friend. +"Accidents sometimes happen, and there is so harm in a double security."</p> + +<p>"Won't you have a cup of tea, Friend Anderson?" said Miss Druett, +struck with the old man's weary expression. "You look very tired."</p> + +<p>"No, thank thee, Friend Druett. I am a poor man, but I don't think I +could swallow grudged victuals. They would stick in my throat. Thank +thee for the offer all the same. Farewell, Priscilla; I hope thee may +some day come to a better mind. Remember, if riches don't leave thee, +thee will have to leave them. When thee comes to lie on a death-bed, +like my poor sister, twenty-five cents won't look quite so big to thee +as it does now."</p> + +<p>And Jacob Anderson took his departure, having certainly taken the worth +of his twenty-five cents out of Miss Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"So you had your ride for nothing," remarked Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"Not altogether. I did your errand at the bank, and stopped to see +about Drusella Pine. She is coming to-night, and Cassius says he will +send her over Monday morning."</p> + +<p>"What on earth do you want with Drusella Pine?" asked Miss Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"I want her to cut and fit the child's new frocks, and perhaps make one +of them. She has not a decent thing to wear."</p> + +<p>"She is not coming here to make it, I can tell you that," said Miss +Priscilla, in alarm. "I won't have a dressmaker eating more than her +day's wages, and telling and tattling about family matters all over."</p> + +<p>"Don't alarm yourself, I have no intention of having her here," +replied Miss Druett; "she need not come into the house, if you prefer +she should not. Calista and I can go over there. Don't you want some +dinner, child?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Miss Druett. I had a good lunch of bread and milk and +gingerbread at Aunt Sally's?"</p> + +<p>"Sally makes a great deal of you, it seems to me," said Miss Priscilla. +"I dare say she would not offer me so much as a crust."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, she would, aunt; try her and see."</p> + +<p>"Did you hear any news?" asked Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"Only about Mrs. Rolfe; they say she cannot live but a few days, at the +outside."</p> + +<p>"That will be a great relief to her family," said Miss Priscilla; "it +must cost a great deal to have her ill so long."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe they feel in that way," observed Calista; "they are +all very fond of 'Aunty Rolfe,' as they call her. Can I do anything for +you, Miss Druett?"</p> + +<p>"No, child, unless you can find a brick to heat for my face. I am going +to try to get a little sleep, for I had none last night."</p> + +<p>Calista found the brick and heated it, and having done all in her power +to make Miss Druett comfortable, she betook herself to her own room.</p> + +<p>How she would have liked to set her mother's work-box and writing-desk +on the table; but she knew it would never do, though she did venture +to arrange her small store of books on two shelves which had long +ago been put up in a corner. These books were, as I have said, +chiefly religious; but there was a thick, fine-printed but handsome +Shakespeare, with her father's name in it, and some volumes of English +poetry—Cowper, Goldsmith, Young's "Night Thoughts," and others of that +stamp. There was a "Saint's Rest," much used and blotted here and there +with tears; a "Pilgrim's Progress," apparently quite new, and the "Life +of Mrs. Fletcher," by H. More.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The next morning, Miss Druett was really ill with a severe cold, and +Calista, was kept busy all day running and waiting on her. As it came +towards night, however, Miss Druett felt better, and insisted on +Calista going to the meeting. Calista had felt a dull, miserable pain +at her heart all day; she could see no way of deliverance, and she did +not hope for much help at the meeting; but she had promised to go, and +she went.</p> + +<p>She was surprised to see what a large congregation had been collected +by the exertions of Cassius and the others who had interested +themselves in the matter. Sally and her husband had washed the windows +and floor, dusted the benches and pulpit, and really made the poor +deserted old sanctuary look bright and cheerful. Cassius, who was +acting as sexton, assigned Calista a seat near the desk, where the +minister was already seated.</p> + +<p>He was an elderly, somewhat hard-featured man, who looked as some one +said of another minister, as if he had been through the fire and come +out brightened and also a little hardened by the process. He glanced +at Calista with peculiar interest, and Calista wondered whether he was +thinking that she looked like her father. That, however, was not the +case. He was thinking, "That child looks as if she were in some great +trouble. I wonder what it is. God help her."</p> + +<p>The service began with a hymn, then a chapter in the Bible—the first of +St. John's gospel—then a prayer, and then came the announcement of the +text, taken from the same chapter:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>The style was so plain that a child could have understood it; plain +with the simplicity of high cultivation and much reading, and also that +of deep feeling. It was evident that the preacher meant every word he +said. Calista drank it in as a man dying in the alkaline desert would +take in a draught of cool, fair water brought from a mountain spring. +Here was the Saviour she needed—he who was called Jesus, because he +came to save his people from their sins; because his blood cleansed +away sin; because he suffered in their stead; because he blotted out +transgression in the past and promised help for the future.</p> + +<p>As the preacher went on in his even, mellow voice, so clear, so calm +and tender, setting forth Jesus Christ crucified in the place of +sinners, Calista's head sank down on the bench before her, and her full +heart overflowed at her. The question was no longer with her, "Can I +forgive Aunt Priscilla?" but "What, oh, what can I do for him who has +done so much for me; who has paid the debt I owed; who has so loved me +all these years that I have never thought of him at all?"</p> + +<p>Calista's was not the only bowed head in the assembly. There was a +universal silence and hush, and even the careless and wild young men +whose presence in the back part of the room had caused Cassius and +others some anxiety sat hushed and silent.</p> + +<p>The sermon was short—too short for Calista, who would have liked +to sit an hour longer. The speaker announced that a prayer meeting +would be held in the same place on Wednesday evening, and that after +the service, he should be glad to converse with any one who wished +for further religious instruction. Then a hymn was sung and the +congregation dismissed.</p> + +<p>Two or three of the better class of neighbors came up to speak to the +minister.</p> + +<p>And one grave, formal old man, after saying good-evening, turned to +Cassius and reproved him, with some asperity, for letting in Tom Edgar +and his companions.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Heminway, I thought they were just the people who needed the +gospel," answered Cassius, no ways abashed. "I suppose Tom Edgar has a +soul to be saved, and that the Lord died to save it, and he ain't any +worse than the publicans and sinners that same Lord preached to and sat +down to table with."</p> + +<p>"That was very different," said the old man. "Tom Edgar is a swearing, +fighting, drunken sot,—the pest of the whole neighborhood."</p> + +<p>"So much the more need of his having the gospel preached to him," +returned Cassius. "Ain't that so, Mr. Alger?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered the minister, promptly. "Was that tall, dark +young man by the door Tom Edgar? I looked at him several times, and +thought him quiet and attentive enough. He sings very finely."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Alger, all I have to say is, that if you encourage such +sort of people, you will have enough of it. That is the worst of these +outside and out of the way meetings. They draw in all the riffraff of +the community. * If only the respectable people will come, it would be +very well."</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<br> +* This is no exaggeration.<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Inasmuch as there is joy in the presence of the angels over one sinner +that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons who need +no repentance, perhaps that may be an effect of outside meetings not +altogether displeasing to him who has promised to be in the midst of +us," said Mr. Alger, mildly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Heminway deigned no answer, but walked away.</p> + +<p>"Well, for my part, I was downright glad to see the poor young fellow +come in," said Mr. Davis, a small, plain man, who rented one of Miss +Priscilla's farms. "Tom Edgar was just one of the nicest little boys +that ever lived to begin with, but he hadn't much chance. His father +never spoke a kind word to him, and whipped him half to death for every +little fault, and his stepmother, who was young and a kind-hearted +little thing, thought to make it up by indulging him in everything, and +covering up his faults just as far as she could. Tom ain't altogether +bad. Don't you remember how he risked his life nursing that poor +creature that had the fever up in the woods here?"</p> + +<p>"I must try to have a talk with him," said the minister. "Who was that +very pretty girl who sat near the desk and seemed so much affected?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was old Miss Stanfield's niece," said Mr. Heminway, who had +rejoined the group.</p> + +<p>"That was Miss Calista Stanfield, daughter of Mr. Richard, and +granddaughter of old General Stanfield of the mansion house," said +Cassius, with a glance of severe rebuke at the first speaker. "She is +as fine a young lady as any in the country."</p> + +<p>"That she is," rejoined Mr. Davis. "I wish her aunt was only half as +much of a lady. I wonder why Miss Druett wasn't down. I kind of thought +she would be."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she's sick abed with a cold. As to Miss Priscilla, I should +think the millennium was coming sure enough if I should see her in a +religious meeting. Well, Mr. Alger, I'm sure we have had a profitable +time to-night, and I hope it may be the beginning of better things."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Calista went home as it were on wings. She hardly felt the ground on +which she trod. The whole world seemed changed to her. Here was the +Friend, the Protector, the Helper, the Physician, she needed, all in +one. She had been walking in darkness, and here was light; hungry and +thirsty, and here was the bread and the water of life; shut in with +bolts and bars, and here was the deliverer who had broken the gates +of brass and burst the bars of iron asunder, and the guide who would +lead and teach her in the way she should go. She had been fighting with +what she knew to be sin, and here was one who came before her saying, +gently,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord.'<br> +<br> + "'I, even I, am he that comforteth you.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Calista had, of course, much to learn of the force of temptation, of +inbred sin, and of the corruption of her own heart, but of these things +she did not think, nor would there have been any wisdom, but quite the +contrary, in telling her of them. The traveller who sets out on a long +journey knows very well that he will meet many discomforts, trials, and +dangers; but he would be a foolish man who should lose the freshness of +the morning, and the singing of the birds, and the beauty of flowers +and scenery, in pondering over these coming dangers and trials.</p> + +<p>Calista went up to Miss Druett's room, and softly opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Come in, child, I am not asleep," said Miss Druett. "Come and tell me +how you liked the meeting."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so much, Miss Druett. How I wish you had been there."</p> + +<p>"Then you had a fine sermon?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether it was fine or not," answered Calista. "I never +thought. I knew it was just what I wanted."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett drew Calista nearer to her, and fixed her piercing eyes on +her face. Then she sighed deeply.</p> + +<p>"I see," said she. "You have found him of whom Moses and the Prophets +did write."</p> + +<p>"You are not sorry, are you, Miss Druett?"</p> + +<p>"No, child! Heaven forbid! I found him once, or so I thought; but I +lost him again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Druett! Surely he did not forsake you!"</p> + +<p>"No: I forsook him. I quarrelled with him because he would not give me +the sweets I cried for, and I have never seen him since. I shall never +find him again, I fear."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he will find you," said Calista softly. "You know that was +what he came for—to seek and to save that which was lost."</p> + +<p>Miss Druett had always rather suffered than returned Calista's +caresses, but now she drew the girl down to her, and held her in a +long, close embrace.</p> + +<p>"Get your Bible and read the same chapter the minister read."</p> + +<p>Calista obeyed, and Miss Druett listened with evident pleasure and +interest.</p> + +<p>"To think that any man with a heart could turn that into ridicule, +whether he believed it or not!" said she when the chapter was finished. +"Now tell me what hymns they sang. Do you know any of them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am. I know the whole of—"</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,—'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"because we sing it sometimes in church."</p> + +<p>"Sing it."</p> + +<p>Calista sang the tender, simple old hymn, worth more than whole piles +of sentimental stuff which go under the name of hymns in some quarters +in these days. Miss Druett listened, and more than one tear stole out +from under her closed eyelids.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla listened as she nodded over her volume of Rousseau, in +the parlors below, and made up her mind that she was not going to have +that sort of thing going on in the house to please Druey nor any one +else.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, child. Your voice is like your father's and your +grandmother's. There, get me some fresh water, and leave me alone. I +dare say I shall have a good night."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_14">CHAPTER FOURTEENTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>OLD JAEL.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CALISTA rose early as usual, with the feeling that she was entering on +a new life. She had lived heretofore for herself—now she must begin to +live for him who had live and died, and lived again, for her. She read +over again her mother's letter, and saw hosts of new meanings in it. +Especially was she struck with these words:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "You must expect to meet with many trials within and without. It may be +that you will no sooner resolve to be wholly a Christian than you will +find yourself assaulted with more ad sorer temptations than you have +ever experienced. This will be partly because you will see things to be +wrong which you never thought to be so before—partly, but not wholly. +Satan makes his fiercest assaults upon those who are just escaping from +his grasp. Be instant in prayer, study your Bible daily, and I would +advise you also to study the 'Pilgrim's Progress.' You will find it a +treasury of help and instruction."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Some persons might have been discouraged by such a warning—Calista was +not so.</p> + +<p>"Sure I must fight if I would win," she said to herself. "I always did +like that hymn."</p> + +<p>And she began to sing it, and then instantly checked herself as she +considered that might wake her neighbors.</p> + +<p>"I believe I will go out and get the flowers I promised Tessy," said +she. "When I am out in the woods, I can sing as much as I please."</p> + +<p>She put on her oldest frock and shoes—not that there was so very much +to choose between oldest and newest—and, crossing the burying-place, +was soon in the shady place where she knew the laurel lingered longest. +It was a little hollow on the edge of the woods, and was kept green +and damp by three or four springs which united their waters to form +a rill—a somewhat uncommon sight in those parts. The place was no +favorite with the country people. On one side of the dell was a curious +grave-shaped mound, from beneath which rose one of the little springs +I have mentioned, which was reddened by oxide of iron. It was believed +that a murdered man and his murderer had there been buried in one +grave, and that the water, in its color, still bore witness to the +deed—and that a kind of venomous snake was found there which lived +nowhere else.</p> + +<p>Calista had no superstitious fears, and she had never seen any of +the snakes, so she was not at all alarmed, but went on gathering her +flowers, and then, catching sight of a great prize—a fine cluster of +yellow moccasin-flowers—she descended to the centre of the hollow, +and, stepping lightly and carefully—for the centre of the hollow was +dangerously soft and boggy—she secured her prize. As she did so, she +was startled by an odd, hollow-sounding laugh, and rose hastily, +to find herself face to face with a very tall woman, dressed in +indescribable rags, whom she at once guessed to be Old Jael, the +fortune-teller.</p> + +<p>"Well done!" said the woman, with another mocking laugh. "'Tis a bold +young lady who comes alone to the Murderer's Hollow to gather flowers."</p> + +<p>"Why, you come here yourself, it seems," said Calista, whose spirit +always rose against any attempt to frighten her; "why should I need any +more boldness than you?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but I go to many places where the young lady dare not go," +answered the old woman; "and in the dead of night, too."</p> + +<p>"I dare say," returned Calista; "but you see I come in broad day, and +for a good purpose, so I carry the blessing of God with me, and have +nothing to fear."</p> + +<p>"Nothing!" repeated the old woman. "Not even the snakes!"</p> + +<p>"I have often been here and have never seen any snakes," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Well, I like a bold spirit," said the old woman. "Don't pretty Missy +want her fortune told? Old Jael can tell her any fine things past and +future."</p> + +<p>"I know the past for myself, and as for the future, it is in God's +hands," answered Calista; "he knows it, and that is far better than +knowing it myself."</p> + +<p>"Mighty fine words!" said the old woman; "but maybe I can make the +proud young lady change her tune, when I tell her where she was—say +last Wednesday evening—peeping and looking for the red gold all alone +in the secret chamber!"</p> + +<p>"I can do as much as that," said Calista, struck by a sudden thought; +"I can tell who was climbing up on an old wall, peeping through holes +and crannies like a cat."</p> + +<p>The old Woman, who had evidently calculated greatly on the effect of +her words, drew back as if some one had struck her, and turned more +ashy pale than she was before.</p> + +<p>"No, Mother Jael, I want none of your skill," said Calista, as she +turned to go. "As you have offered to tell my fortune, I will tell you +something in return: 'he that believeth on the Son of God hath eternal +life, and he that believeth not shall not see life, but the wrath of +God abideth on him.' I advise you to go to the meeting Wednesday night, +and learn what will do you good. Good-morning."</p> + +<p>The woman nodded not ungraciously, and stood looking till Calista was +out of sight.</p> + +<p>"You are a bold one, anyhow, and I like your spunk; but—Yes, we must +have her out of the way, or we shall do nothing."</p> + +<p>Muttering thus to herself, she walked away in the opposite direction +with more activity than could have been expected.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Calista put her flowers in water, changed her draggled dress and shoes, +and then went to see Miss Druett, whom she found, to her surprise, up +and ready for breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Are you able to go down?" asked Calista. "I was coming to ask if I had +better not stay at home and take care of you."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child! I am not sick; it is only a cold. Where have you been +so early?"</p> + +<p>"I have been in the Red Hollow after flowers, and I have met the +presiding genius of the place."</p> + +<p>And Calista recounted her adventure.</p> + +<p>"Were you not frightened?" asked Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit! I believe I scared her a good deal more than she did me."</p> + +<p>"Still, I don't like your meeting her."</p> + +<p>"But, dear Miss Druett, I can't stay in the house all the time for fear +of Old Jael. Do you think, like Chloe, that she is a witch?"</p> + +<p>"I think she is an unscrupulous, wicked woman, and that is bad enough," +replied Miss Druett. "I don't like to have you lose one of your few +pleasures, but I must say I don't fancy your meeting her. How bright +you look!"</p> + +<p>"I feel bright; I feel as if I were in a new world. Oh, Miss Druett, if +you would only find him too! Why won't you try?"</p> + +<p>"There, don't talk about it, child," replied Miss Druett, hastily; +"pray that he may find me, and perhaps he will. Come, it is time to go +down."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Calista walked somewhat more slowly than usual this morning, and +reached the school-room just as the first bell rung. She went directly +to her desk and looked into it, half hoping to see the missing +needle-case, which she disliked losing, both for its own sake and +because she knew the trouble the loss would occasion at home. It was +not there, however, and her desk was exactly as she left it.</p> + +<p>"It is very strange," thought Calista; "anyway, I am sure Mary did not +take it."</p> + +<p>Mary Burns and Antoinette Diaments were the last to enter—the latter in +her riding-dress, which she had had no time to change. She had hoped +to reach school in time to restore the case to its place, but in this +she was disappointed; and as she looked at its beauty, she could hardly +make up her mind to return it at all.</p> + +<p>"Calista is so giddy, Miss McPherson will think she lost it herself; +and so will Miss Meeks, if I can only get held of her first."</p> + +<p>Mary Burns looked tired and worn with grief and watching, as, indeed, +she was; but her face, in all its sorrowful paleness, had a steadfast, +settled expression. She knew in whom she had put her trust, and she +did not believe he would desert her in the hour of need, however he +might suffer her to be tried. For this poor, plain, stammering tailor's +daughter had a faith which nothing could shake. She would have faced +all the sophistry of all the infidels in the world with the simple +unanswerable argument of St. John:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "WE have SEEN him."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>It was the custom on Monday morning for each person in the school-room, +beginning with Miss McPherson herself, to recite a verse from Holy +Scripture. The verses this morning were unusually significant to those +who were in the secrets of the past few days. Miss McPherson's was from +the thirty-second Psalm and fifth verse:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou +forgavest the iniquity of my sin.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Miss Jessy's (with a beseeching glance at poor Mary) was:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our +sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.'" (1 John 1:9.)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Miss Meeks (sharply, and with a glance in the same direction):</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Be sure your sin will find you out.'" (Numbers 32:23.)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>It was Mary Burns's turn next, and she spoke up clearly, and with a +bright light in her usually pale blue eyes.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "He shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment +as the noonday." (Ps. 37:6.)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"How hardened she must be to choose that verse!" thought Miss Meeks.</p> + +<p>But Miss McPherson and Miss Jessy exchanged a glance which said, "She +is innocent, whoever is guilty."</p> + +<p>Antoinette was unfortunate. She had opened hastily to the same Psalm, +and, keeping her Bible in her lap (for she had quite forgotten to learn +a verse), she read the first her eye fell upon:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "The wicked borroweth, and payeth not again: but the righteous is +merciful, and giveth." (Ps. 37:21.)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Calista's eyes brightened and her color deepened beautifully as she +repeated:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "We have found him, of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets, did +write, Jesus of Nazareth." (John 1:45.)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>There was a short silence after Miss McPherson's prayer, is which +she asked that the innocent might be justified and the guilty led to +confession and amendment. Then she made a little speech. She said most +of those before her had heard of the loss of the needle-case from Miss +Stanfield's desk, and the suspicion which had fallen on one of their +number. If the matter had not become public already, she should not +have made it so, but she hoped all would suspend their judgment.</p> + +<p>Then she asked, "Can any one throw any light on this matter?"</p> + +<p>Then, as no one else said anything, Calista spoke modestly:</p> + +<p>"Miss McPherson, there is one point at least in which Mary Burns can be +cleared. She said that she saw Antoinette come out of the school-room +at a quarter to nine, but Miss Meeks thought she must be wrong, because +Antoinette went away before eight."</p> + +<p>She paused and looked at Antoinette, who gave her a vengeful glance in +return.</p> + +<p>"Well, what then?" asked Miss McPherson, after waiting a moment for +Antoinette to speak.</p> + +<p>"Tessy told me that her cousin came back because some accident happened +to the horse," answered Calista. "Antoinette staid in Tessy's room till +just before the quarter bell rung, and then went to the school-room, or +so Tessy thought. So Mary might have seen her, as she said."</p> + +<p>"Is this true?" asked Miss McPherson of Antoinette.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," answered Antoinette, temper and the wish for revenge +getting the better of her prudence. "I did not mean to say anything, +but, since Miss Stanfield seems determined to throw the blame upon me, +I must tell the whole story. I was in the school-room a moment, my +skirt came untied, and I stepped behind the study door to fasten it. As +I stood there, I saw Mary Burns come into the room and look into Miss +Stanfield's desk. She turned the things over till she found something, +and dropped it into her inside pocket. Then she took a book, shut the +desk, and went hastily out."</p> + +<p>"You did not see what she took?" said Miss McPherson.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. It was something pretty heavy, which pulled her pocket +down, and jingled a little."</p> + +<p>"What do you say to this, Mary Burns?" asked Miss McPherson, turning to +her.</p> + +<p>"It is not true, Miss McPherson. I did not turn over one thing. I took +up the 'Lady of the Lake' and read a little, and then I laid it down, +took the volume of Goldsmith, and carried it away. I have no more to +say."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't know what to think," said Miss McPherson, much +perplexed.</p> + +<p>"I should say it was all very plain," said Miss Meeks, not perplexed +at all, as, indeed, people seldom are who have made up their minds +beforehand. "Here is positive evidence on one side, and simple denial +on the other."</p> + +<p>"Good!" thought Antoinette. "You might have held your tongue, Miss +Stanfield."</p> + +<p>But another witness was to the fore on whom she had not calculated. +Elizabeth Howell had come a little late and sat down quietly by the +door. She now rose up, tall, fair, and prim, as delicate as an August +lily, in her light-gray bombazine and clean muslin kerchief and apron.</p> + +<p>"I should like to speak to thee in private, Friend McPherson."</p> + +<p>"What can she have to say?" thought Antoinette, but without much +misgiving. "She does not know anything about the matter. I took care of +that."</p> + +<p>After a few minutes' conversation, Miss McPherson opened the door of +her private room and called—</p> + +<p>"Miss Meeks, will you come in? Miss Burns, Miss Stanfield, Miss +Antoinette Diaments, Miss Settson, please come also. The young ladies +will recite their French grammar to Miss Jessy."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The party tolerably filled the little room. Elizabeth looked a little +flushed, and Miss McPherson both grieved and angry.</p> + +<p>"You will please listen, Miss Meeks and young ladies, to what Elizabeth +Howell has to say."</p> + +<p>"First, if Friend McPherson pleases, I should like, Calista, to hear +thee describe the needle-case."</p> + +<p>Calista did so, taxing her memory to be exact in every particular.</p> + +<p>"Precisely so!" said Elizabeth. "I saw Antoinette Diaments at her +cousin Richard Whitecar's, in Graywich, and she had and was using just +such a case as Calista describes."</p> + +<p>"How could you see it, I should like to know, when I put it in my +pocket before you came into the room?" asked Antoinette, unguardedly.</p> + +<p>"Then you admit that you had it!" said Miss McPherson.</p> + +<p>Antoinette saw she had betrayed herself, and was sullenly silent.</p> + +<p>"Please answer her question, Elizabeth."</p> + +<p>"I saw the whole through the window, and reflected in the large mirror +opposite," answered Elizabeth. "I came in by the back way, as I often +do." (The two families being relations as well as neighbors.) "I stood +two or three minutes watching some kittens at play, and then looked +into the room. I could not see Antoinette—only her reflection in the +glass, and this case on the table, with the scissors, by her side. +Antoinette was using the thimble. I was rather struck, and it did occur +to me to wonder whether this was the needle-case that had made all the +trouble. Then Richard Whitecar came along and spoke to me, and I saw +Antoinette hastily gather up the things and put them in her pocket. +Then I felt quite sure. I meant to speak to Antoinette about the +matter, but had no private opportunity. It seemed to me this morning +that the attempt to throw blame on Mary Burns was a clear call to tell +what I knew."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence, and then Miss McPherson said, in a +sterner tone than had ever been heard from her before—</p> + +<p>"Antoinette, where is the needle-case?"</p> + +<p>Antoinette was obstinately silent.</p> + +<p>"Miss Meeks, you will please search Miss Diaments's room thoroughly, +and especially her travelling-basket and work-bag. Antoinette, stay +here—" (For Antoinette was moving toward the door). "Sit down on that +chair, and do not stir from it till I give you permission. I will have +this matter sifted to the bottom."</p> + +<p>There was a short but very awkward pause till Miss Meeks returned +without the needle-case, and looking a good deal excited.</p> + +<p>"I cannot find it," said she.</p> + +<p>"Of course you can't, when it is not there!" said Antoinette, in a tone +of triumph.</p> + +<p>"Look in her desk," was the next order.</p> + +<p>"Look as much as you please!" said Antoinette insolently.</p> + +<p>But her manner changed as Miss Meeks said pointedly, "There are some +things in Miss Diaments's room which need investigation."</p> + +<p>"I will attend to that matter," said the principal. "Look in her +pockets."</p> + +<p>Antoinette turned pale.</p> + +<p>"I won't have my pockets searched!" she stammered. "It is a pity if the +daughter of one of the richest men in the state is to be insulted for +the sake of beggarly tailor's girl!"</p> + +<p>Antoinette had kept fast hold of her work-bag, but in her agitation she +dropped it. It fell on the floor with a heavy, ringing sound.</p> + +<p>Miss Meeks picked it up and opened it. There was the case.</p> + +<p>"Antoinette, I beg for your own sake you will confess the whole +matter," said Miss McPherson, earnestly. "Tell the whole truth, my poor +child."</p> + +<p>"I shall not tell anything!" answered Antoinette. "If you choose to +make a fuss about it you can. I guess you will lose more than I shall. +I don't think you will make much by quarrelling with the richest man in +the state for the sake of tippling old tailor Burns's daughter."</p> + +<p>Those who knew Miss McPherson actually trembled for the effect of these +words. That lady, however, answered with a calmness more alarming than +any storm—</p> + +<p>"Miss Diaments, you are no longer a member of this school. You will +remain in this room till I can send for your uncle. Mary Burns, my +dear, you are entirely cleared from the shadow of blame. Is she not, +Miss Meeks?"</p> + +<p>"So far as this matter is concerned, certainly," said Miss Meeks; "but +I must remind her that but for certain past equivocations, to call them +by a mild name, I should not have suspected her."</p> + +<p>"I know I have not always told the truth exactly, Miss Meeks," answered +Mary, humbly. "I have been easily frightened and confused, and +sometimes I have seemed to tell lies when I did not mean to. But I hope +I shall be enabled to do better, and not think so much of what men will +think of me."</p> + +<p>Miss Meeks was melted. She kissed Mary, and told her she had no doubt +she meant to be a very good girl.</p> + +<p>"You will now all return to your places," said Miss McPherson. "Miss +Meeks will clear Miss Burns, and I hope we shall none of us be the +worse for the lesson we have received."</p> + +<p>Miss McPherson spent some time in trying to persuade Antoinette to +a confession, but Antoinette was obstinate. The fact was, she did +not believe Miss McPherson would dare to expel her, and took all her +persuasive gentleness for a method of getting gracefully out of the +scrape.</p> + +<p>"Very well, I shall say no more," said Miss McPherson. And rising she +led Antoinette to a smaller room which opened from her own, and which +was used in extreme cases as a kind of chamber of penitence. "You will +remain in this room, seeing no one, till I can see your uncle, and make +arrangements for you to return with him."</p> + +<p>"I must put up my things," said Antoinette, for the first time showing +some alarm.</p> + +<p>"I shall myself look over and put up your things with the assistance of +Mrs. McGregor."</p> + +<p>Antoinette now gave way entirely, and with tears and sobs and the most +abject entreaties begged to be allowed to go to her room, if only for a +few minutes, to put up her own things.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Miss McPherson, her suspicions confirmed by Antoinette's +conduct. "I must attend to that matter myself. The servant will bring +your dinner, but you will not leave this room."</p> + +<p>So saying Miss McPherson left the room, shutting and locking the door. +She was sorry for the girl, but hers was not the false compassion +which will expose the innocent to contamination on the mere chance +of reforming the guilty. She found more than enough in her search of +Antoinette's room to confirm her resolution. It was astonishing to see +how many little articles, some of considerable value, which had been +given up for lost by their owners, were found carefully hidden in boxes +and under beds. It seemed evident that Antoinette must have carried on +the business of petty thieving almost ever since she had been in the +school.</p> + +<p>Antoinette departed in the afternoon, regretted by no one, unless by +Tessy, who had been the greatest sufferer by her meanness. I may as +well say that neither her father nor mother believed one word against +their daughter, her mother declaring that Antoinette never told a lie +in her life. Two or three large sums paid on account of shoplifting +performances, and a final disgraceful elopement, partly opened her +father's eyes, but her mother persisted in declaring that it was all +the fault of the influences under which poor Antoinette was thrown at +that abominable Cohansey school.</p> + +<p>This is no fancy sketch, as many a teacher can testify. It is no +wonder, seeing of what it is the root and spring, that God abhors +covetousness.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_15">CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>EVIL INFLUENCES.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"WELL, I am sorry for Antoinette, after all," said Calista, as the +girls gathered in the play-ground.</p> + +<p>"So am not I," returned Mary Settson. "She brought it all on herself, +and deserves a far worse punishment."</p> + +<p>"I don't deny that, but still I am sorry for her. And, Mary, what would +have become of all of us if somebody had not been sorry for us while we +were yet sinners?"</p> + +<p>"But she was so mean to try to throw all on poor Mary."</p> + +<p>"That is true. I don't extenuate her fault in the least, but still I am +sorry for her."</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't so sure, after all, about this business," said Charity +Latch, who was a great worshipper of wealth. "It seems a great deal +more likely that a poor beggar like Mary Burns should steal than that +Antoinette should."</p> + +<p>"I should like to know what makes Mary Burns a beggar," said two or +three girls at once, and Emma added, "Did she ever beg anything of you?"</p> + +<p>"If she did, she didn't get it," said Belle. "We all know Mary is poor, +but there is not a girl in the school less of a beggar than she. I +think she even goes too far the other way. She just hates to receive +a favor. As to Antoinette, there can be no doubt. She not only took +the needle-case, but a good many other things besides, my button-hole +scissors and cornelian necklace, that I thought I lost in the street, +among others. One would think she need not have done that, when she had +such lovely cameos of her own."</p> + +<p>"I am glad Mary is cleared, anyhow," observed Calista. "Dear little +soul, how pretty she looked when she stood up and said her verse! And I +am glad I have my needle-case back, but I am sorry for Antoinette, and +I think—" Calista hesitated a little and blushed as she added—"I think +we ought to pray for her."</p> + +<p>"What, is Saul among the prophets?" said Belle. "Are you going to be +another Mary Settson? We sinners are likely to be deserted entirely."</p> + +<p>Mary put on her "martyr face," as Belle called it, and turned away. +Calista only said, gently and seriously—</p> + +<p>"Don't, Belle. I know you don't mean any harm, but don't make fun of +religion or things connected with it. Think if your words should come +true!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't," said Belle, more seriously; "I know you are right, +even as a matter of good taste. But tell us, Calista, do you really +mean to be a Christian, like Mary and Clarissa Whitman?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I shall be like anybody," replied Calista, "but I do +really mean to be a Christian if I can."</p> + +<p>"Well, for my part, I'd wait and see if I was going to persevere, +if I were you, before I spoke out so plainly," said Charity. "But I +don't call any girl in this school a consistent Christian, for my +part. There's Clary Whitman—just look at her playing battledore and +shuttlecock with Emma Ross."</p> + +<p>"Well, where is the harm? I don't know anything in the Bible against +playing battledore and shuttlecock, do you? I am sure Clary Whitman +is a good girl, if there ever was one," said Belle, warmly; for she +was one of those happy spirits that delight in the goodness of other +people. "Come, Calista, will you have a game, or do you think it is +wicked?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," said Calista; "but I can't play now, Belle. I must find +Mary; I have something to tell her."</p> + +<p>Calista found Mary Settson sitting pensively in the school-room, and +sat down by her.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" she asked. "Surely you don't mind Belle's words. +You know she means no harm."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how you can say that, when she laughs at religion as she +does."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she was not laughing at religion exactly, she was laughing at us. +Besides, when I told her I did not think it was right, she stopped +directly. But I want to tell you ever so many things, Mary—so many, I +don't know where to begin. But, first of all, Mary, I have found him, +as my verse said. I have found Jesus of Nazareth."</p> + +<p>The little snake of jealousy and ill-humor which had been hissing in +Mary's heart for a few minutes was silent and dived into his den. She +kissed Calista.</p> + +<p>"Tell me how it was," said she.</p> + +<p>"It began with mother's Bible, and some letters I found in her desk—for +you must know that, thanks to Miss Druett, I have all mother's things. +I made up my mind that I must and would be a Christian, and then I +found a letter—such a letter!—from Aunt Priscilla to mother.</p> + +<p>"That upset me again, for I knew I must forgive, or my own sins would +never be forgiven; and I felt sure I never could. But Sunday evening +Mr. Alger preached in the old red meeting-house, and I went to hear +him. His text was,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Behold the Lamb of God!'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mary, I can't tell it all, but he made me see him in the garden +and on the cross, and all for me. All the bitterness seemed to go out +of my heart, and I felt I could forgive anything—even the cruelty to my +poor, gentle mother. I said,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Lord, if thou wilt—'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"And he did. I did not do it at all."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I am very thankful," said Mary; "I did not suppose Mr. Alger +was a very eloquent preacher."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether he was eloquent or not," said Calista; "I did +not think of the preacher at all—it was what he said. He brought me +just the help I wanted. And we are to have another meeting Wednesday +evening, and perhaps a Sunday-school."</p> + +<p>"I rather wonder your aunt should let you go," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I did not ask her. Miss Druett let me. I am to be Miss Druett's +girl now. But, all the same, I mean to qualify myself for a teacher, +as you advised me. I think one can do as much good in that way as any +other; don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed; but I hope you won't ever have to work for a living, +Calista."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall not mind, if only I am as well and strong as I am now. By +the way, when is your father coming home?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not for a long time, and that is something I had to tell you," +replied Mary. "Father has written from Princeton for Alice and me to +join him there, and we are going a long journey with him up to Vermont +or somewhere. This is the last day I shall have in school."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how sorry I am! I was counting on having you sit with me."</p> + +<p>"I will next term. And, Calista, if you like, you can have my place in +the drawing-class. There are three weeks to vacation, and you might do +quite a good deal in that time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you! I shall like it ever so much! I have all mother's +pencils and paints. But I am so sorry you are going away. I shall miss +you more than ever now."</p> + +<p>"You will have a better friend than I," said Mary. "I shall feel a +great deal easier about you now that I know you have learned to love +him," she added, feeling that her sympathy with her friend had not been +as hearty as it ought to have been. In fact, the little snake had put +out his head again and whispered that it was very strange Calista had +been so affected by the preaching of such a dull old man as Mr. Alger, +while she (Mary) had talked and urged in vain. Surely Calista ought to +have listened to her. Probably it was only some passing excitement—some +mere emotion, and not a real conversion. But Mary had come to know the +voice of the serpent, and she, so to speak, set her heel on his head +with a force that sent him crushed and wounded to his den.</p> + +<p>The next day Mary went away, and Belle Adair came to occupy +Antoinette's vacant place. She was not precisely the companion Calista +would have chosen, but they got on well together. Belle recognized the +force of principle which made Calista absolutely refuse to whisper or +to take any notice of any little notes written in school hours. In her +turn she did Calista good by her orderly habits and punctuality in +doing the hour's work in its own hour.</p> + +<p>They soon became great friends, and every one noticed that Belle +had entirely left off her habit of jesting on serious subjects, and +that she even came down sharply on Charity for a riddle founded on +Scripture, telling her that was not the way to use the Bible. If +she had lived in these days, when "Bible Puzzles" are published in +religious newspapers, perhaps she would not have been so particular.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>At the Old Stanfield Manor things were a good deal altered. Miss +Priscilla scrimped, and saved, and scolded, but did not interfere as +usual with Calista, and it seemed, sometimes, as if she were even +trying to conciliate her niece.</p> + +<p>Calista was sure her aunt had more than one interview with Zeke and +Jael. At first Miss Priscilla would steal out to the barn or the edge +of the wood, but at last the old woman would come boldly to the house +and ask for Miss Stanfield. Then the two would be closeted together for +an hour, and Jael would go away laden with provisions. These interviews +usually took place on Sunday morning or evening, when Miss Druett and +Calista were at church. For Miss Druett had taken to going to the +Sunday evening meetings, and had actually given something to help on +the repairs of the old meeting-house.</p> + +<p>"There goes Jael now!" said Calista, as they were walking home on +Wednesday evening, and came in sight of the house just in time to see +Jael leaving it with a large bundle in her arms.</p> + +<p>"What is that old woman after?" asked Calista. "Miss Druett, what does +it mean, do you suppose?"</p> + +<p>Miss Druett sighed. "I am afraid it means mischief, child. I wish Mr. +Settson would come home, though I hardly know what he could do if he +were here. Nobody could say that your aunt is insane. My only hope is +that she will become disgusted with the rapacity of these people, as +she was before. However, if Mr. Settson were here, he might find some +means of driving them away, though I fancy they are like some animals +which are said never to commit depredations in their own neighborhoods."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice Tom Edgar to-night?" asked Calista.</p> + +<p>"I noticed that he sung very finely, and seemed much affected. He seems +very regular in his attendance."</p> + +<p>"I heard him tell Mr. Alger that he hoped he had found the Lord at +last. And what do you think Mr. Heminway said?"</p> + +<p>"Something very encouraging, I dare say."</p> + +<p>"He said, 'Well, I hope he has; but he has been a dreadful wild, hard +case, and for my part I don't believe in sudden conversions.'</p> + +<p>"Then old Brother Davis said, 'Brother Heminway, it's a good thing you +wasn't in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost; you'd never have believed +in those three thousand being taken into the church.'</p> + +<p>"And then Mr. Heminway frowned, and said he didn't believe in using +Scripture in that way."</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"In the way that went against him, I suppose," answered Calista, +shrewdly. "I have noticed people seldom do. But I wanted to ask you +about the Sunday-school, Miss Druett. Mr. Alger wishes me to take a +class of little colored girls."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have no objections, if it does not tire you too much. You will +learn more than you will teach for a time, but that won't hurt you or +your scholars either."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Alger asked me if you would teach a class."</p> + +<p>"I would if I were able. I used to teach a Sunday-class years ago, in +Philadelphia, and liked it very much."</p> + +<p>"And don't you feel able?"</p> + +<p>"No, child. Oh, I am not sick; you need not open your eyes so wide, +and look so alarmed! But it tires me to talk much lately, and I shall +have to be a little more careful of my health than I have been. I am +beginning to find out that I have bones and nerves to ache and keep me +awake nights, as well as other people. But as to yourself, I think the +teaching will be very good for you. You will never find out how much +you don't know till you try to tell what you do know."</p> + +<p>"I have found that out already, helping Miss Meeks. But I do wish you +would have a doctor, Miss Druett."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child! I am not sick; what should I want a doctor for?"</p> + +<p>The next day Calista had been out in the pasture hunting mushrooms, and +coming back across the little burying-ground as the nearest way, she +stopped to pull some tall weeds from her grandfather's grave. As she +did so, she saw that the long grass had been disturbed and a little +earth scattered about.</p> + +<p>"Oh ho, Mr. Ground-squirrel, are you here!" said she. "I think you +might find a better place."</p> + +<p>As she moved away the long grass with her foot, she caught sight of +something glittering. She bent down and drew it out. It was a long +purse, such as people used in those days, and are beginning to use +again, and well filled with coin and bills. She knew it in a moment—her +aunt Priscilla's purse. How in the world did it come there?</p> + +<p>She did not stop to think, but hurried home and went straight to the +sitting-room, mushrooms and all. Miss Priscilla was nodding over her +book, Miss Druett sewing, as usual.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Priscilla, have you lost anything?" said she.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla started, put her hand in her pocket mechanically, and +turned pale as ashes.</p> + +<p>"My purse!" said she, in a kind of shrill whisper. "Where is my purse?"</p> + +<p>"When did you have it last?" asked Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"Last night, at the back kitchen door. Oh, what shall I do? Who has +taken it?"</p> + +<p>"Here it is," said Calista, producing it. "Now, where do you guess I +found it?"</p> + +<p>"Out by the door," said Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. You are not even warm."</p> + +<p>"Then you must tell us."</p> + +<p>"That I will, for I am sure you will never guess." And Calista told +where she had discovered the purse.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla looked more scared than ever.</p> + +<p>"You—you don't suppose he came and got it, do you, Druey?"</p> + +<p>"Your father, do you mean? No, indeed. I think some one took it and hid +it for purposes of their own—probably to make a parade of telling where +it was and restoring it."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said Calista; "I never thought of that."</p> + +<p>"It was very odd that you should find it."</p> + +<p>"I would not if I had not stopped to pull the weeds from grandfather's +grave. Aunt Priscilla, why don't you have that place put in order? I +should not dare go near it, only that ivy never poisons me. It is a +shame to have it so neglected."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, perhaps I will some time," said Miss Priscilla, after she +had counted her money and found it was all there. "You are a lucky +girl, Calista. You are always finding things. Who knows but you would +find the pirates' gold, if you were to look for it?"</p> + +<p>"I never shall find it, because I never shall look for it," said +Calista, boldly. "I believe, as Cassius says, that if there is any such +treasure, it would be bloody gold and bring ill fortune to any one that +touched it."</p> + +<p>"Why do you let your thoughts run so much on such matters, Priscilla?" +said Miss Druett. "Suppose you found a thousand pounds of gold, what +good would it do you? You would never spend it or give it away, and any +minute you might be called to leave it."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla looked as if she thought "Druey" had suddenly gone mad.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" said she.</p> + +<p>"I mean what I say," said Miss Druett, "and I am going to free my mind +for once. You know that you must die, like all the rest of us. It is +the only event to which we can look forward with any certainty. You +cannot take money into the grave with you. Shrouds have no pockets, +and a coffin is made only just large enough to hold the corpse it is +meant for. Perhaps this very night you will hear the summons—then whose +shall those things be that you have prepared? Come, Priscy, we have +been wandering in the wilderness of this world a great many years; let +us set our faces heavenward, asking the way thither, and go heme to God +together."</p> + +<p>Calista had often noticed the curious musical chord in Miss Druett's +voice, but she had never heard its tones so rich and harmonious as now. +She sprung forward in her usual impulsive way, threw her arms round +Miss Druett's neck, and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad!" she exclaimed. "Oh, do, Aunt Priscilla!"</p> + +<p>"Do what?" asked Miss Priscilla, sullenly. "I will tell you what I +won't do. I won't have my house turned into a Methodist meeting-house. +If you must believe in such nonsense, keep it to yourself. I haven't +made any objection to your running off to meeting and all that, but I +won't have any such stuff here, I tell you that."</p> + +<p>Just then Chloe opened the door with a handful of letters.</p> + +<p>"Here's the mail, and here's one for you, Miss Calista. You are in luck +to-day."</p> + +<p>"In more ways than one it seems," said Calista. "Oh how sorry I am!" +she exclaimed, as she read.</p> + +<p>"What now?" asked Miss Druett.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Settson and the girls are not coming home for several weeks," +replied Calista. "Mary says,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Papa has heard of something very important, which will take him to +Boston, so he will be away for some weeks longer. He says you must keep +my place in the drawing-class till I come.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Drawing, indeed!" said Miss Priscilla. "Spinning would be more to the +purpose. You shall stay at home and learn to spin."</p> + +<p>"Remember the child belongs to me, Priscilla; that was part of the +bargain."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, have her; I don't care. I must go to town this afternoon, +Druey, and I want you to go with me."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Miss Druett. "I have an errand of my own. Calista, +stay within bounds, and don't go running over the woods. We shall +have you bitten by one of the gray snakes, or killed by a wild pig or +something."</p> + +<p>"I don't in the least believe in the gray snakes," said Calista. "I +have never seen one yet, as often as I have been in the Red Hollow. But +I shall not go out of the house, for I have a bit of work to finish for +the fair."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is to-morrow, is it? Whom do you mean to stay with?—For I +suppose you must stop all night with some one."</p> + +<p>"Emma Ross asked me to stay with her. Clary Whitman and Belle Adair are +going to be there, so we shall have a fine time. Elizabeth Howell won't +come, because she says she has not a clear evidence that it is right. +The girls laugh at her, but I don't see anything to laugh at. It seems +to me if you are not sure that a thing is right, it makes that thing +wrong for you."</p> + +<p>"She is quite correct. Keep that rule in mind, and you will save +yourself a deal of trouble."</p> + +<p>When her aunt and Miss Druett were gone, Calista established herself in +the front room with the child's apron she was ornamenting in crewels. +Thanks to her mother's store of working materials, she was now able to +do something independently.</p> + +<p>The front parlor was kept in decent order, only by the exertions of +Miss Druett, and hither Calista resorted with her work, pulling down +the inside venetian blinds, so that she could see without being seen. +She had not sat long before she saw old Jael come to the kitchen door +and speak to Chloe. By leaning a little out of the window she could +hear the whole conversation.</p> + +<p>"Where's your mistress?"</p> + +<p>"What's that to you?"</p> + +<p>"Come, old woman, keep a civil tongue, will you? Is Miss Stanfield at +home?"</p> + +<p>"She's gone to town, if you must know."</p> + +<p>"Has she found her purse?"</p> + +<p>"She hasn't lost it. I saw it in her hands just as she went away."</p> + +<p>"But, I tell you, she did lose it," said the old woman, in a voice +which betrayed some agitation. "She lost it last night, I know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you do, do you?" thought Calista. "I thought so."</p> + +<p>"Well, if I was a fortune-teller, I'd tell straighter than that," said +Chloe, in a tone of great contempt. "Don't I know Miss Priscy? I tell +you if she had lost her purse last night, not one in this house would +have a wink of sleep till it was found. Besides, I saw it in her hands +not an hour ago—the very long green purse she always carries; so you +needn't talk to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I dare say you are right, only I thought I heard something +about it. Get me a drink of cider, Chloe, there's a good soul. You'll +be old yourself some day."</p> + +<p>"I ain't far from it now," mid Chloe, relenting a little, as it seemed +by her tone. "Then sit down in the shade, and I'll give you some cider, +and your pail full of skim milk if you want it."</p> + +<p>Calista heard the kitchen door shut and bolted, while Chloe departed on +her errand.</p> + +<p>But Jael did not sit down in the shade. She hurried across the road +with wonderful swiftness, and disappeared for a moment behind General +Stanfield's monument. When she appeared again, her face was a curious +mixture of anger, confusion, and fear. She got back just in time to +meet Chloe as she unbarred the door.</p> + +<p>"What took you across the road in such a hurry?" asked Chloe. "I saw +you from the buttery window."</p> + +<p>"I thought I saw a lame quail," said the old woman.</p> + +<p>"Smart you must be, to be taken in by a lame quail! There, there's a +fine pail of milk and some cold potatoes for you. Why don't you and +your husband settle down like decent folks, and have good times?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we have our good times now and then as well as you," chuckled the +old woman. "Thank you all the same. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"She ain't a witch, that's certain," muttered Chloe to herself, as she +watched Jael out of sight. "Maybe she is something as bad or worse; +anyhow, a pail of milk won't hurt her."</p> + +<p>Calista laughed behind the blinds to think how she had circumvented the +old woman. But she did not know all the plans in that wicked old head, +by a great deal.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_16">CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE FAIR.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE fair was a great success, though a good deal of the pleasure was +marred to Calista by the absence of several of her friends. Miss +McPherson had been called to New York to see Miss Jessy off for +Scotland, whither she had gone to attend to a small inheritance which +had fallen to her. Miss Meeks was with her sister, who was sinking in +a rapid decline. Mary Settson was going about with her father, now and +then writing a long letter to Calista—now and then, but not very often, +for postage was a consideration in those days, when every single letter +cost eighteen cents and a double one a great deal more.</p> + +<p>The law was a very whimsical one. You might use one sheet the size +of a barn door, if you could get one; but if you put in a second bit +of paper, though no larger than a visiting card, you must pay double +postage. Under such circumstances, a letter was a grave consideration.</p> + +<p>In Miss Jessy's absence, Clary Whitman took charge of the school table, +assisted by Calista and Belle Adair, who had come back to Cohansey for +the purpose. Everything went off beautifully. Calista had hardly ever +been out in an evening before, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. For once +in her life she had the pleasure of appearing in a handsome new frock—a +sprigged India muslin, which she had found among her mother's things.</p> + +<p>For the satisfaction of my young lady readers, I will just mention that +it was made with a short waist, of the style then called Grecian, very +large gigot sleeves with stiffeners, a lace cape with ruffles, crossed +and fastened behind, and a broad blue silk belt, fastened with a gilt +buckle.</p> + +<p>Every one noticed how very handsome she looked, and what ladylike, +modest manners she had, and every one wondered how she came to be there +at all. Almost all the articles on the table were sold and brought good +prices. Old Mr. Fabian himself bought Mary Burns's rug to put under his +office table, and his wife even bought Charity Latch's work-bag, saying +to herself that it would do to hold clothes-pins, and it was a pity the +poor thing should be mortified when she had done her best.</p> + +<p>Clarissa Whitman, Belle Adair, and Calista spent the night with Emma +Ross. Bell and Calista, slept together, and as they were going to bed, +Calista said, in the most natural way in the world:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Emma, will you lend me a Testament?"</p> + +<p>"I've got one for you," said Belle. "It is in my trunk. I thought +a pocket Testament would be convenient if you were teaching a +Sunday-class, so I brought you one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you," said Calista, gratefully. "I have wanted one ever so +much. How very pretty!"</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose Miss Stanfield will let you keep it?" asked Emma. "I +heard that she would not allow one in the house, and when she and Miss +Druett found an old one somewhere, they trampled it all to pieces and +then burned it up."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Calista, laughing. "My poor aunt is not quite so bad +as that. Miss Druett and I each have one, and we read together every +day. But I suppose people tell all sorts of things about our family."</p> + +<p>"Indeed they do. Such stories—" Emma began, but Belle interrupted her—</p> + +<p>"Don't tell her, Emma. What is the use of repeating such things? I am +of my stepmother's opinion about that. Some one came to her with a +story of what Mrs. So-and-so had said. Mamma checked her at once, in +that tremendously dignified way she has when she chooses.</p> + +<p>"'Please don't tell me if it is anything unpleasant,' said she. 'If it +is anything agreeable, I shall be glad to hear it.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, I dare say you are right," said Emma, smiling, but blushing a +little; "so I will tell Calista that Mr. Alger said she was one of the +greatest helps he had in his work at the mills. He told pa so."</p> + +<p>"What a sweet temper Emma has!" said Belle. "She is a little too fond +of gossip though."</p> + +<p>"She hears a good deal of it, I presume," said Calista. "Perhaps no one +is quite as careful as they should be, unless it is Elizabeth Howell."</p> + +<p>"Or yourself."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am not under any very great temptations. Miss Druett does not +talk about people at all, and Aunt Priscilla calls them all fools."</p> + +<p>"I should not think your religion and your aunt would agree very well," +Belle ventured to say.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well—she snaps sometimes, but either she is not so sharp as she +used to be, or I don't mind it so much. I really get on quite nicely. +But, please, don't talk for a little, Belle. I want to read my chapter +and say my prayers."</p> + +<p>"I will be as mute as a fish at Quaker meeting," said Belle. "But don't +keep all the good to yourself. Read your chapter aloud."</p> + +<p>Calista did so, and Belle listened with evident interest; and when +Calista knelt down, she sat quite still till she had finished.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what, Calista, you are a comfortable sort of Christian +to be with," said Belle, when they were both in bed and the light was +out. "You don't put on a long face, and look all the time as if you +were afraid something dreadful was going to be done or said, like—"</p> + +<p>"Hush, now! I won't have you censorious," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't say it, then; but you know who I mean, all the same."</p> + +<p>"You two would be the best friends in the world if you would only come +to understand one another," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"How are you to come to an understanding with a person who always +takes it for granted that you mean to say and do the very worst thing +possible?" demanded Belle, with some heat.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come; you judge too hardly. M—, that person is naturally inclined +to low spirits and brooding. It is very different with me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that. But if she is a Christian, why doesn't she try to +overcome such a disposition as that?"</p> + +<p>"She does try. And anyhow, Belle, it is better to be a faulty +Christian, who knows her faults and tries to conquer them, than not to +be a Christian at all."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know; I don't think I would try unless I could be a +perfect Christian—consistent in all things."</p> + +<p>"If your rule had been followed out, we should never have had any +Christian Church at all," said Calista. "There was not one of the +Apostles that we know anything about but had some fault."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Calista!—St. John!"</p> + +<p>"Well, he was for calling down fire on his enemies; and St. Peter +certainly had his faults, and so had St. Paul. I don't think that +excuse will stand for much at the last day. Come, Belle, do think it +over again, and without delay. Your time may be very short, you know. +Think of poor little Lawrence!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I will; I promise you I will. Now we must go to sleep, or we +shall never be ready to get up."</p> + +<p>Calista was, as Belle said, "a comfortable Christian," both to herself +and others. As some one said about Christiana, in the "Pilgrim's +Progress,"—"she never was in Doubting Castle at all."</p> + +<p>Probably her vigorous health had something to do with the matter, +though I think a great deal more is made of this excuse—"the state of +my health"—than is desirable or justifiable. I have known a man impute +all his dryness and lack of interest in religious matters to the state +of his health, when that same state of health did not hinder him from +taking the liveliest interest in the price of stocks or the report of +the last ball-game. I have seen a lady sit down contentedly with the +same excuse, who was as much occupied with her new dress as though +the fate of the Christian Church depended on the decision between a +princesse and a polonaise. Besides, what is that religious experience +worth which deserts and leaves us in the dark when we need it most? +This by the way.</p> + +<p>But Calista saved herself a great deal of trouble by the simplicity +with which she accepted the gospel. She did not ask herself whether +her repentance was deep enough, or her joy high enough, or her motives +pure enough. The Saviour said "Come," and she came. He had said, "Be +ye holy, for I am holy," and she would try her best to be so to please +him, trusting to his promise to help her, and his love to forgive and +wash away her offences when she failed.</p> + +<p>To be sure, Aunt Priscilla was trying, and even Miss Druett was +sometimes sharp and sarcastic, though she had softened much of late. +Her future was uncertain, and she was much troubled at the increasing +influence of old Jael; but the Lord had expressly said,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'In the world ye shall have tribulation,'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>and he had also said,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world'" (John 16:33).<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Her greatest trouble had arisen from the return of her angry and +revengeful feelings about her aunt. This distressed her so much that +one night she opened her trouble to her pastor. Mr. Alger listened, and +gave her sound and useful advice.</p> + +<p>"That is nothing strange," said he. "It is what every one has more +or less experience of. Satan is not going to give up any part of his +kingdom without a struggle, and there is always a traitor within to +help him. What you must do is this, hold no parley with the enemy, no, +not for an instant. Every minute of delay makes the work of resistance +tenfold harder. Lift your heart at once to the source of all strength. +Pray for your enemy as well as for yourself, and then resolutely turn +your thoughts from the subject, think of something else, and leave your +champion to fight the battle for you.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord.'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"And I'll tell you what, my dear child, Christians would save +themselves a great deal of trouble if they would learn this one +lesson,—to control their thoughts, and make them work, so to speak, +in harness. I can understand, from the little I know of your family +affairs, that your position is a very trying one, but do not give way +to fretfulness or despair. Wait on the Lord and be doing good, and fret +not thyself in any wise. And, by the by, study well that thirty-seventh +Psalm, and you will come to feel as if it were made for you."</p> + +<p>Calista obeyed, and found the wisdom of the good minister's advice. She +was studying very hard this vacation, with Miss Druett's assistance, +who fully approved her plan of qualifying herself for a teacher. She +also learned to spin, to please Miss Priscilla, who actually gave her +a shilling as a reward when Calista brought her her first skein of +smooth fine thread to show what progress she had made. She took great +pains with her class of little girls, very few of whom could read, and +was gratified with their improvement. She tried hard to read Mitford's +"Greece," and persevered through a volume and a half, when she gave it +up, and took to "Plutarch's Lives" instead.</p> + +<p>Zeke and his wife seemed for the present to have disappeared from the +neighborhood. Miss Priscilla was more quiet and reasonable than usual, +and, on the whole, it was the most comfortable vacation Calista had +known.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>But a very great sorrow was about to fall on Calista,—the greatest +sorrow she had ever known since the death of her mother.</p> + +<p>Miss Druett had been troubled with a cough for two or three years, +which cough had grown worse since her apparently slight attack of +illness in the summer. Still Calista, in her ignorance, did not think +of her being ill. True, she was somewhat thin and languid, but this +Calista attributed to the great heat of the weather. Surely she could +not be ill when her eyes were so wonderfully bright and she had such a +beautiful color in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>At last, however, even Calista's eyes were opened. Miss Druett one +Sunday evening fainted in church, and, though she revived so as to +walk slowly home with the assistance Chloe and Calista, she never went +again. The next day she sent for the doctor and Mr. Fabian.</p> + +<p>Dr. Elsmore soon finished his examination, and on Miss Druett's +demanding to know the truth, he told her that, though she might linger +a few days or weeks, there was no recovery possible, and the end might +come at any time.</p> + +<p>"God's will be done," said Miss Druett. "I should not have a regret but +for the child; but she is in his hands, and will be cared for."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fabian came, and with him she had quite a long private +conversation. Then she seemed to have given up the world altogether, +and lay patient and smiling, waiting till the change should come.</p> + +<p>Calista, at last awakened to her friend's true condition, staid by +her night and day, hardly leaving the room except for her meals and a +run in the fresh air now and then, when Miss Druett insisted upon it. +She could not think; she dared not give way to grief. Her whole being +seemed to be given up to the work of caring for her friend, and making +her last days more comfortable.</p> + +<p>Mr. Alger and Mr. Lee came to see her; the former almost daily, and +she seemed to enjoy their visits and their prayers, but she was unable +to talk much at a time. Calista spent hours in reading the Bible and +singing old familiar hymns, to the great but secret annoyance of Miss +Priscilla. Miss Priscilla did not, could not, and would not believe +that, "Druey" was going to die. It was all nonsense; she was a little +unwell, and gave way instead of exerting herself and riding out. She +was always thinking about herself and her bad feelings, just as though +she, Miss Priscilla, was not a great deal worse. Then, veering round +all at once, she declared it was all the fault of old Alger and his +Methodistical cant putting gloomy ideas into Druey's head. It was +coming home from those meetings in the dew which had brought on her +cough; but she would get over it—yes, she would get over it in a few +days. Oh, yes, if she wanted wine, she must have it, no doubt. Doctors +were always making all the expense they could.</p> + +<p>"You can go down and get a bottle of that old Madeira," she said to +Chloe; "get anything she fancies or the doctor orders. But it is a +great shame; I shall die in the poor-house—I know I shall."</p> + +<p>"Well, what hurt will that do you?" asked Chloe, who spoke her mind on +all occasions. "The next minute after you are dead, it won't make any +odds to you whether you died in a poor-house or a palace."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla seized her favorite volume of Rousseau's "Confessions," +made as if to throw it at the bold speaker, but thought better of it, +and contented herself with a threatening look, as usual.</p> + +<p>"I really will discharge that woman; she grows more impudent every +day," she said to herself as Chloe left the room; but she had said so +at least once a month for the last twenty years, and still Chloe staid +on.</p> + +<p>Miss Druett died peacefully at last, not without warning enough to send +for Mr. Alger and Mr. Fabian.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla refused to believe it at first, then grew angry, then +fell to crying, and finally into a fit, which seemed for a time likely +to end her life with that of her friend. She really was very ill for +several days, and Chloe had her hands full with her.</p> + +<p>Meantime old Sally did the work and attended to Calista, who needed +such attendance. The strain being taken off, she realized how severe +it had been by the fatigue she felt, and for several days after the +funeral, she could hardly sit up or occupy herself in anything. She +could think of nothing but her departed friend, and, as usually happens +in such cases, she was somewhat morbid. She went over and over with +all their past intercourse, and while she remembered a hundred acts of +kindness and self-sacrifice unmarked at the time, she remembered, too, +with acute remorse, many faults on her own side—pert replies, teasing +and fretfulness over her lessons.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if she would only come back just for a minute! If I could only see +her just once more!" is the cry of the bereaved; "but I never can—never +in all this world."</p> + +<p>Happy they who can take refuge in the thought,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "But we shall meet again where there is no more parting;—"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>And a thousand thousand times more to be pitied than the most desolate +Christian on earth is he to whom death ends all—he who with his dead +buries his hope.</p> + +<p>It was well for Calista that time brought with it the need for +exertion. On the fourth day after the funeral Mr. Fabian called, and +Calista was sent for down to the parlor. It seemed to her that she +could hardly drag herself down the stairs, or attend to anything when +she got there; but she made the effort, and was rewarded by feeling +better and brighter for the exercise.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fabian was very kind and sympathetic, and nearly set Calista's +tears flowing again; but she made a great effort to check them, and to +give her whole mind to the matter before her.</p> + +<p>"I do not know, Miss Calista, whether you are aware that your late +friend, Miss Druett, made a will."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Calista, as Mr. Fabian seemed to expect a reply.</p> + +<p>"Did she ever tell you anything about her business matters?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, once. She told me she had a house in Philadelphia, and that she +had received some money from England, from her father I think she +said; but she did not tell me how much, only that she had enough for +her old age. Latterly she has bought my clothes and given me a little +pocket-money now and then."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. I see you know how to make a clear statement. The house in +Philadelphia to which you allude was hers only for life. But she has +about three thousand dollars invested in good securities, and this +property will be yours when you are twenty-one. Try to control your +feelings, my dear Miss Stanfield," as Calista's eyes filled. "It is of +importance that you should understand these matters. There is also the +further sum of seven hundred and twenty dollars and seventy cents," +continued Mr. Fabian, taking out his memorandum-book and opening his +glasses; "this also belongs to you, with the exception of a legacy +of fifty dollars to Mr. Alger, and twenty dollars each to Chloe and +David. Her books, pictures, papers, and a few ornaments, are yours; her +clothes of every description she leaves to Miss Stanfield."</p> + +<p>"I am glad she remembered Mr. Alger," said Calista; "he has been so +kind, and so have the servants. I should like to give a little present +to Cassius and Sally, Mr. Fabian. They have always been so good to me, +and I don't know what we should have done without them since aunt has +been sick."</p> + +<p>"It shall be attended to," said Mr. Fabian. "I am glad you spoke of it. +But now, Calista, we must decide what is to become of you. Where would +you like to live? At Miss McPherson's, supposing she has room for you?"</p> + +<p>"I should like that best of anything, I think, though Mr. Settson has +sometimes spoken of my staying with his daughters. Still, on some +accounts I should like the school best."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we may let the matter rest till Mr. Settson returns before +coming to any final decision. But what will you do in the mean time?"</p> + +<p>"I must stay here, at least till aunt is better," said Calista. "I +cannot go away and leave her sick in bed."</p> + +<p>"Cannot Chloe attend to her?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly, so long as she has all the work of the house to do beside. I +do not think, however, that I could go on living with Aunt Priscilla +alone when she is about again. I must confess I am afraid of her in her +bad moods. And there is another reason why I should not like to stay +here alone with her, though I hardly know whether I ought to mention +it," said Calista, hesitating.</p> + +<p>"I think you had better tell me all," said Mr. Fabian. "It shall go no +farther, I promise you. What is the reason?"</p> + +<p>"It is that Aunt Priscilla is so under the influence of that woman +Jael, the old treasure-seeker's wife," said Calista, lowering her +voice. "I don't know whether you know anything of her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed! But, Calista, is that possible? Why do you think so?"</p> + +<p>Calista briefly gave her reasons: "Miss Druett was very much disturbed +when she heard these people had appeared again, and said that Aunt +Priscilla had had dealings with them before."</p> + +<p>"Do you think your aunt can be in her right mind?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. She is very sharp and acute about her business, and +looks after everything about the farm. She flies into fearful rages +sometimes, but other people do that."</p> + +<p>"Very true. But to traffic with those wretches—really Settson ought to +attend to it."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose he knows it. I have never spoken of it before. Miss +Druett told me aunt was fond of speculation, and had wasted a great +deal upon lottery tickets."</p> + +<p>"She has made some very successful speculations, too," said Mr. Fabian, +rising. "Well, my dear, I have no more business with you this morning. +When your aunt is well enough, I must explain matters to her. Now, is +there anything I can do for you? Would you not like to put on mourning +for your old friend?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed I should, Mr. Fabian!" answered Calista, her eyes filling +with tears. "I have thought a good deal about it, but could not see my +way, for I have no black dresses, and no money."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fabian suggested the subject to me, and bade me say that if +you would send her a pattern-dress, she would take the whole matter +off your hands, and see you properly provided. Mrs. Fabian is very +thoughtful and considerate," concluded the old gentleman, with a little +bow, as if his wife were present. "I hope and trust you will find her a +valuable friend."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt I shall, if she will be so kind as to befriend +me," said Calista, feeling very grateful to Mrs. Fabian for her +consideration in the present instance. "I will get you the dress, if +you will wait a moment."</p> + +<p>Calista folded up her new sprigged muslin in a small, neat parcel, not +without a sigh to the memory of the last time she wore it.</p> + +<p>And Mr. Fabian departed, leaving Calista much relieved. She was not +left dependent on the grudging bounty of Miss Priscilla, neither +would she lose the opportunity of completing her education with Miss +McPherson. She was sensible enough to consider that three thousand +dollars was not a fortune, and she did not at all relax in her +determination to qualify herself for a teacher; but it was pleasant to +know she had something of her own.</p> + +<p>It was with a curious feeling that all must be a dream that she sought +out her mother's purse and put into it the five dollars Mr. Fabian had +given her in parting.</p> + +<p>Then she kneeled down and asked earnestly for grace to serve her Master +in the new state of life to which he seemed pleased to call her. And +then, rested and comforted, she went into her aunt's room.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_17">CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MR. FABIAN CALLS AGAIN.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>MRS. FABIAN was true to her word, and by her exertions, ably seconded +by those of Drusella Pine, a very handsome and proper suit of mourning +was sent home to Calista on Saturday night, accompanied by a kind +little note from Mrs. Fabian, and a present of a black feather fan. +Calista was pleased with the present and still more with the note, and +she would not have been a girl of sixteen if she had not felt a slight +movement of gratified vanity as she looked at herself in the glass and +saw how very neat and becoming was the fresh bombazine and crape, and +the black cottage bonnet with its plain white border inside.</p> + +<p>"Well, you do look like a real lady, Miss Calista," said Chloe, who +had assisted at the trying on; "and it does me good to see you wearing +decent clothes, as a young lady ought. Did Mrs. Fabian send you any +everyday things?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a nice black calico; and she says she will have a black stuff +made for me. Isn't she kind?"</p> + +<p>"Law, yes! The Fabians are real quality, and know what's what. None of +your new-come-up folks they ain't. I heard say something about your +going to boarding-school; is that so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Miss Druett wished it, and Mr. Fabian thinks it best."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am glad of it, though what this house will be like without +Miss Druett and you, I can't say. But this I will say, it is not the +place for you. Miss Priscilla is bewitched by that old Jael, and +there's no telling what will come of it. Besides, you ought to be with +some one who knows how young ladies ought to behave, and who will take +an interest in your education. It's my belief if it hadn't been for +Miss Druett, you wouldn't even have learned to read and write."</p> + +<p>"I am of the same mind, Chloe. Looking back, I can see how she has +befriended me all my life. I don't think I ever thought half enough of +her when I had her."</p> + +<p>"That's the way we all feel, honey," said Chloe. "It's just so with me. +I know I was aggravating lots of times when I needn't have been. Wasn't +it a blessed thing that she died such a happy death, and that Mr. Alger +could say, as he did, that she died a Christian?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"But, honey, I expect you'll have a regular fuss with Miss Priscilla +about the will when she comes to know it. She said she meant to see +Mr. Fabian, and get the money, just as soon as she was able. I don't +think she has a notion of the way things are left, because she said to +me that she would put out the money to much better advantage than Miss +Druett. I didn't say a word, for I thought, least said soonest mended. +I suppose you'll put on your new clothes to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if I go to church."</p> + +<p>"There's another thing you'll have a fuss about, I expect," said Chloe, +as she assisted Calista in folding and laying away her new dress and +mantle. "I mean your wearing mourning. Miss Priscy hates to see any one +in black. She says it is such a waste; but I think it is because she +don't like to be reminded of her latter end."</p> + +<p>"Then if it annoys her, I won't wear it in the house while I stay here. +Shall I unpin the veil from the bonnet?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, and lay it smooth in the same folds. A crape veil will last +a long time if one is careful of it. And do the same by your shawl. +Some ladies' things always look as if they had been kept under the bed, +because they don't take care of them when they take them off. Now what +would you like for your supper, honey?"</p> + +<p>"Just what you have. I would as soon have bread and milk as anything, +only I should like some tea."</p> + +<p>"I hope it ain't wicked," muttered Chloe, as she descended the stairs, +"but if Miss Priscy was obliged to stay in bed the rest of her life, +I'd willingly take all the trouble of waiting on her for the sake of +the comfort there would be down stairs."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>It rained hard on Sunday morning, but cleared up at noon; and at three +o'clock Calista thought she might venture to go to her Sunday-school. +She asked Chloe's advice.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, go, honey; it will do you all the good in the world. I'll take +care of Miss Priscy, never fear."</p> + +<p>Calista dressed herself in her new mourning and went out. As she was +passing her aunt's door, she heard a peremptory voice call,—</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Calista?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am. Do you want anything? Shall I send Chloe?"</p> + +<p>"No. Come here, I want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>Now Calista had worn her black print dress all the morning, and +Miss Priscilla had made no remark. Calista took this as a tacit +acquiescence, and was rejoicing that the matter had settled itself +so easily. But she was mistaken in her reckoning. The fact was, Miss +Priscilla had not noticed the dress at all.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" was the first question. And then, with an +ominous flash of the eyes, "What is that you have on?"</p> + +<p>"My new mourning, aunt. Mrs. Fabian got it for me and sent it home last +night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she did? She is very obliging, I am sure," said Miss Priscilla, in +her bitterest sarcastic tone. "Pray did she pay for them?"</p> + +<p>"No, aunt," answered Calista, with an inward prayer for grace, for she +saw that a conflict was impending. "Mr. Fabian paid for them out of +Miss Druett's money that she left me."</p> + +<p>"That she left you!" Miss Priscilla repeated slowly, as though she +could hardly believe her ears. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fabian will tell you all about it, aunt," said Calista, retreating +a little. "He is Miss Druett's executor, and has the management of all +her affairs. I would rather not talk about it to-day."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that Druey has gone and left the money she had from +England to 'you?'" asked Miss Priscilla, sitting up in bed.</p> + +<p>"Please wait till to-morrow, aunt," said Calista, determined not to +have a dispute on Sunday. "Mr. Fabian will tell you all about it." And +she left the room, followed by a string of vituperation which she did +not stop to listen to.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>She met her class and had a pleasant time with them. The little girls +were full of sympathy, every one was kind to her, and she came home +feeling refreshed and comforted.</p> + +<p>Chloe met her at the door.</p> + +<p>"Don't go near your aunt," said she. "She is in one of her tantrums. +I've set your supper out in the sitting-room, and when you've eaten +it, if you don't go to meeting again, you had better sit in the +front parlor. There's some nice books in there that used to be your +grandma's, and I'll bring you in a light by and by."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I will go to meeting, Chloe. I feel rather tired with my +walk. It is strange I should mind such a thing when I have walked to +town all my life."</p> + +<p>"You're worn out, honey; that is just what it is," said Chloe. "You +ain't made of cast iron more than any one else. Eat your supper, and +take care of your new frock. Milk spots black worse than anything."</p> + +<p>Calista took the advice given her, and then retreated to the front +parlor. She had never examined the little cupboards by the chimney. +Indeed, they had usually been kept locked, but now they were open, +and Calista eagerly looked over their contents. There were a few very +early specimens of the Annuals—a species of literature which seems to +have wholly died out; but the books mostly consisted of sets of the +"Spectator" and "Rambler," and religious books of which there were +a good many and of high character—Thomas à Kempis, Taylor's "Holy +Living," "The Whole Duty of Man," Law's "Serious Call," and the like. +Calista took down the last, and was soon fascinated, as any person of +taste must be, by the exquisite style, the wit, and solid excellence of +the matter.</p> + +<p>She read till it was too dark to see, and then sat watching the +fireflies, which spangled everything, and the moon, which just touched +the higher clouds with silver. She tried to keep her thoughts on other +things, but the questions would rise, "What was she to do? Was it +her duty to stay on where she was? Could she possibly live with Aunt +Priscilla?"</p> + +<p>"But I am borrowing trouble," she said to herself at last. "My aunt +gave up all care of me to Miss Druett, and she said Mr. Fabian was my +guardian and would decide for me, so, of course, he will settle all +that. I wouldn't be him when he calls to-morrow. I don't think aunt +need grudge me my little fortune. Surely she has enough. I heard Mr. +Fabian and that other gentleman say that the estate had increased in +value tenfold. But I will not think of business to-night—so there!"</p> + +<p>And drawing nearer to her the candle Chloe had brought, she applied +herself once more to the "Serious Call." She read on, more and more +interested, till a sudden rustle caused her to turn round. Some one +was at the window, that was certain; some one who disappeared in a +moment. She went to the window and looked out. There was nothing to be +seen, but as she drew together and barred the shutters, she heard a low +hollow laugh or chuckle, which she knew too well.</p> + +<p>"So that horrid woman has come back," she said to herself. "Mr. Fabian +is right. It will never do for me to stay here."</p> + +<p>She could not feel very comfortable alone in the great room with its +heavy, faded damask hanging, where her one candle made such grim +shadows of the old-fashioned furniture. She took her book and candle, +and, slipping off her shoes, she crept softly up to her own room and +fastened the door, which had no bolt inside, by putting one of her +trunks against it. She sat reading a long time, till all was quiet in +the house. Then she said her prayers, and going to bed, she fell asleep +like a baby.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The next morning, to her utter amazement, she went down stairs to find +her aunt dressed, and sitting waiting for her breakfast. Such a thing +had not happened for years.</p> + +<p>"Why, Aunt Priscilla, how smart you are getting!" she exclaimed +pleasantly. "When have you been down to breakfast before?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am not quite superannuated yet, though you and your Fabians +would like to make me so. Yes, you and your Fabians, with your plots +and plans," she added, shaking her head. "You will find out, Miss, you +poor-house child that I took out of charity that you might turn me out +of house and home. Yes, yes! I meant to make you rich at last, but +you'll see what you have gained by your plots and plans. You'll see!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, aunt, I have done nothing to injure you," said Calista, +gently. "I don't ask anything of you but kind treatment and a little +love. Come, aunt, let us be friends for the sake of her that is gone."</p> + +<p>Calista's voice trembled, and she drew near to her aunt and bent down +as if to kiss her, but Miss Priscilla pushed her off.</p> + +<p>"There, go away. If you must make a sentimental fuss, go and see about +breakfast; we shall not have it over by the time that old fool gets +here."</p> + +<p>Breakfast, however, was over and out of the way before the person so +politely designated arrived.</p> + +<p>Calista was not called to the conference till just at its close. As she +entered the room, she heard Miss Priscilla say, in the loftily polite +manner which she could assume if she chose:</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to have been the cause of your forgetting yourself and +being so violent, Mr. Fabian. I had always supposed you to be a person +of quite a different stamp. I see now how wise my father was in +refusing to sanction your addresses."</p> + +<p>"And I see what an idiotic young fool I was ever to have made them," +muttered Mr. Fabian, evidently much discomfited. "Be that as it may, +madam," he continued, aloud, "I assure you that the will of your late +friend is perfectly legal in every respect, and if you dispute it, you +will lose your money."</p> + +<p>"That remains to be seen, sir. Meantime, my niece remains in my +custody. I have brought her up and educated her, and I intend that she +shall stay with me till she is of age, and be governed by me in all +things."</p> + +<p>Calista cast a glance of consternation at her friend.</p> + +<p>"Do not be alarmed, my dear," said Mr. Fabian. "You shall remain with +this—this 'person' no longer than till I can obtain the proper legal +power to take possession of you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fabian pronounced the word "person" with a look and emphasis which +gave it all the effect of the most vituperative epithet. "Mr. Settson +is expected home to-day, and then we will arrange the whole matter. Do +not be afraid; no one shall hurt you."</p> + +<p>"No harm is likely to come to her under this roof, whatever might +happen anywhere else," said Miss Priscilla. "I have allowed the young +person much more liberty than was for her good, to gratify the whims of +my late companion and housekeeper, Miss Druett—"</p> + +<p>"Oh! So she was your housekeeper!" said Mr. Fabian, taking out his +tablets and making a note of the words. "You will please remember these +words, Calista. They may be important."</p> + +<p>"Of my late companion and friend, as I supposed her," continued Miss +Priscilla, without noticing the interruption. "She has been going about +to Methodist meetings and other places unfit for any decent young +person. I shall permit this no longer; but as to any ill-treatment, +I hope my character and that of my family are a guarantee against +anything of that kind. I will not detain you any longer. Good-morning!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fabian bowed, and whispered to Calista to keep up good courage.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla accompanied him to the door with the greatest politeness.</p> + +<p>Calista, meantime, fled to her own room and fastened the door as well +as she could. She had hardly done so when she heard it locked on the +outside. Then she heard her aunt's voice ordering David to get up the +chaise and be ready to drive her to Graywich.</p> + +<p>"I shall not be at home till to-morrow," she said to Chloe, in +unusually gracious accents; "so, if you choose, Chloe, you can go to +town and stay with your sister. Indeed, I prefer that you should do so. +I shall feel safer if the house is locked up."</p> + +<p>"But where is Miss Calista? She can't stay here alone," objected Chloe. +"And what about the cows?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Calista has gone to town with Mr. Fabian. Did you not see her in +the carriage? As to the cows, Davis will see to them."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Chloe. "Then I guess I'll go over to Sally's. Jubalina is +out, helping at Mrs. Whitecar's. And I'll take my new frock along and +get Drusella to cut it for me. Hadn't I better take the key to the +kitchen door, so's I can come and have things ready for you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I prefer to carry all the keys myself. Go and get ready, for I am +in a hurry."</p> + +<p>No more was said, and Calista began to reflect on her position with +some consternation. She did not at all relish the idea of being left +locked up in the great empty house without food all night, and besides +she had no notion of the lengths to which her aunt might go in her +madness, for as such Calista regarded her conduct. She might, however, +only mean to break her niece's spirit by hunger and solitude, and thus +gain her ends.</p> + +<p>"But she will find herself mistaken," thought Calista, proudly; "she +does not know with whom she has to do."</p> + +<p>The two servants slept in a room opening from the outer kitchen, and +Miss Priscilla watched Chloe so carefully as to prevent her going up +stairs at all.</p> + +<p>Calista in her prison heard all the doors locked one after another, +and the chaise roll away. She tried the door, but it was fast; her +room being in the highest part of the house, she could not think for +a moment of throwing herself out of the window. She tried the door +with all her strength, but it would not yield to her efforts. She was +sitting down to rest and compose her thoughts, when she heard a welcome +voice under the window call softly—</p> + +<p>"Honey, are you there?"</p> + +<p>Calista sprang to the window and put her head out.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Chloe, is it you? I thought every one had left me."</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you so?" said Chloe, addressing nobody in particular. "I +didn't believe you went away in that carriage. Have you got a string +you can let down?"</p> + +<p>Calista found a roll of tape in her work-box, and let it down.</p> + +<p>Chloe fastened a basket to it.</p> + +<p>"There's some dinner for you," said she. "I mistrusted all the time +you were here, and so Chloe put you up a nice basket. Now listen to +me. You will have to stay where you are till dusk. Nothing will hurt +you, and do you pack up all your trunks, and put all your best things +in one. Keep up a good heart, honey, and if you hear strange noises +and scratching round about dusk, don't you be scared. Cash has got a +plan for you in his head. There, good-bye; eat your dinner, keep a good +heart, and we'll show Miss Priscy that there is more than one way to +the woods, and out of them too."</p> + +<p>Calista felt the wisdom of this advice. She made a hearty dinner, and +then began to pack up her trunks, putting together in one all her most +valuable articles and those she was most likely to need, as Chloe had +advised. She had in her possession the new travelling bag she had +bought for Miss Druett, and in that she bestowed her dressing things +and other small matters. This being finished, she took a book and read +for a long time.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>It was growing dusk, when, as Chloe had foreboded, she began to hear +a distant stir and rustling, and low, cautious voices. She listened +intently: something was certainly stirring in the large disused closet, +wherein were stowed the old clothes that her aunt had destined for +carpet-rags. She opened the door, and as she did so, another door, +which she had never suspected, opened in the wooden partition opposite, +and the dark, friendly faces of Cassius and Chloe appeared in the +opening.</p> + +<p>"Here she is, all safe and sound," said Cassius. "Now we must hurry, +for I mistrust the old lady may get back to-night, after all. Which +trunk do you need most, Missy? For we can't take but one."</p> + +<p>Calista indicated the one she wished to take.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Chloe. "Now, help me, Cash, and we'll put the others +where Miss Priscy won't find them in a month of Sundays."</p> + +<p>Calista waited with what patience she could till the trunks were +bestowed somewhere in the dark void on which the closet opened.</p> + +<p>"That's all right; now for this one. Come along, Missy, and mind your +steps. The garret is pretty dark. Shut your eyes a minute, and you'll +see better."</p> + +<p>Calista followed, wondering more and more. Chloe shut both closet-doors +behind them. They passed through the garret and down a short stairway +which seemed to wind round the chimney, then through another closet +similar to the one up stairs, and Calista found herself in a large +bed-room on the second floor, which she recognized as her father's old +room.</p> + +<p>"All right so far, but I'm glad that trunk wasn't any bigger," said +Cassius; "now it's all plain sailing. Shut all the doors behind us, +Chloe, and leave everything straight."</p> + +<p>They descended to the first floor. Cassius opened a side-door, and it +was with a feeling of exultation that Calista found herself in the open +air.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible she left a door unfastened?" said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Not she," returned Cassius. "Young master gave me a key to this door +years ago, and I kept it for a kind of keepsake. But let's get on the +road, and I'll tell you all about it."</p> + +<p>"Won't you take the river road?" asked Chloe. "It's more lonesomer."</p> + +<p>"Either road is lonesome enough at this time," answered Cassias; "and I +want to get Missy into safe keeping. Have you got anything to put round +you, Missy? It is sort of chilly."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I took down this old cloak, which was hanging in the closet," +said Calista.</p> + +<p>"That is my master's old military cloak, which he wore in war times," +said Cassius. "He had it on when he was took for death. Some time, +Missy, if you don't want it, I should like to have that cloak; but I +don't want it in my house just now."</p> + +<p>They were soon stowed in the Jersey wagon, which was tied before the +gate, and the stout little horse was going over the road at a fine +pace, as if he did not mind his load in the least.</p> + +<p>"And now, do tell me how you got in?" said Calista. "And what is the +story of that closet?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is all plain enough," answered Cassius. "You see Chloe +mistrusted all the time that you didn't go away with Mr. Fabian, +because she did not see you go out, and she told me so. So Sally says,—</p> + +<p>"'You'd better go and make sure, and take the poor thing something to +eat.' For Sally, she can't bear to think of any one's going hungry.</p> + +<p>"Says I, 'If she is there, I reckon we can get her out easy enough.'</p> + +<p>"You see young master and me, we used to go out night-fishing, and he +had a key to the little side-door, and he and I, we built that little +staircase round the chimney and through the closets, so I could come +down to his room any time. Your grandpa knew it, and thought it was +only a frolic. Whether Miss Priscy did or not I don't know. She was +away at the time we built it, I remember. When young Master Richard +went away, he gave me that key to the side-door, and told me to keep it +till he came back. So as nobody ever used the door, I took it away with +me when I went, for a kind of keepsake. But it took a sight of oil to +make it turn smooth, I can tell you. I little thought what good it was +going to do. But I kind of wish you hadn't taken the coat."</p> + +<p>"I don't think she'll miss it," said Calista. "She gave it to me with a +parcel of other old clothes to cut into carpet-rags, a long while ago, +and she has never asked for the things since. Anyhow, I can send it +back to her if she wants it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we'll fix that easy enough," said Chloe. "Here we come."</p> + +<p>"I guess we'd better drive right to Mr. Fabian's, hadn't we?" asked +Cassius.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes, Cassius. How shall I ever pay you?"</p> + +<p>"Bless you, Missy, don't think about that. Who's got a right to help +you if I haven't, I should like to know?"</p> + +<p>The sound of wheels on the carriage-drive brought Mr. Fabian to the +door of his handsome, stately old house, and great was his amazement +when Cassius stopped his horse, and helped out first Calista and then +Chloe.</p> + +<p>"Calista, is this you? What does it mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Fabian, won't you please take me in, and take care of me?" +said Calista, her voice quivering with the excitement she had been +repressing all day.</p> + +<p>"Of course I will, and very glad I am to see you," said the old +gentleman, grasping the hand held out. "Mrs. Fabian, will you come +here?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fabian appeared, stately and beautiful, in her black satin and +lace cap,—for old ladies were old ladies in those days.</p> + +<p>"Now, what is the story?" said Mr. Fabian.</p> + +<p>Cassius told it in a few words.</p> + +<p>"What an abominable shame!" said Mrs. Fabian. "The child might have +lost her senses, poor dear. I never heard of anything more cruel."</p> + +<p>The kind words, and the epithet which she had so often heard from her +lost friend, finished the break down which had been for some time +impending, and Calista burst into a fit of hysterical crying.</p> + +<p>"There, there, she is quite overdone," said Mrs. Fabian, folding +Calista in her motherly arms. "We will get her to bed, and Chloe and +Cassius shall have their supper and feed the horse. Perhaps, Chloe, as +your mistress is not coming back to-night, you had better stay. There +is plenty of room for you."</p> + +<p>Chloe had calculated on this invitation, and accepted it without +scruple.</p> + +<p>Cassius declined, with many low bows. He must get home and see to his +cows, and so on.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fabian followed him to the door and said something, of which only +the conclusion was audible: "Keep your own counsel, and if you get into +trouble, I'll stand by you."</p> + +<p>He pressed something into Cassius's hand, which glittered yellow in the +lamplight.</p> + +<p>Cassius bowed, and disappeared in the darkness, and his horse was heard +trotting away.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Calista had been conveyed up stairs to the most beautiful +bed-room she had ever seen, where she was speedily undressed and put to +bed. Presently appeared Chloe with an inviting tray, and when it was +plain that Calista was too tired to eat, she was tucked up, exhorted to +sleep as late as she pleased in the morning, and finally left to her +repose.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_18">CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MISS PRISCILLA.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT was just as well that Cassius did not take the river road, for had +he done so, he would have met Miss Priscilla at his own gate.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla had allowed herself to act in a passion, and, she had +not gone three miles from home before her mind misgave her. She had +almost a mind to make a pretence of having left something and turn +back. But she was not quite cool yet, and she did very much want to +see Mr. Anderson, the lawyer in Graywich, about "that infamous will of +Druey's"—so she called it in her own mind.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Mr. Anderson gave her no particular comfort. He was an honest man, and, +moreover, he had once had to collect a bill of Miss Priscilla, and he +had not forgotten (though she had) the way he had been treated on that +occasion. He strongly advised Miss Priscilla not to go to law about the +matter.</p> + +<p>"These few thousand dollars are nothing to you," he said. "If you go to +law, your servants and your niece will be very sharply examined, and +things may come to light which may be very unpleasant."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla winced.</p> + +<p>"There is another consideration," pursued the lawyer, as gently and +politely as if Miss Priscilla was a mouse and he the cat which was +playing with her. "I suppose there is no doubt that your father, +General Stanfield, made a second will, though it was never found. But +after what has passed, Settson and Fabian will leave no stone unturned +to discover it, and they are likely enough to succeed. Under such +circumstances, would it not be better to conciliate the regard of the +young lady,—who, from all I hear from my nieces, her schoolmates, is a +very amiable, engaging young person,—and make a friend of her?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you there was no second will—nothing of the sort," said Miss +Priscilla, in great agitation. "The whole property is mine—house and +all; and that money is rightfully mine."</p> + +<p>"There you are mistaken, as I think," said Mr. Anderson, politely.</p> + +<p>"Then you won't undertake the case?" said Miss Priscilla, in deep +disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Under the circumstances, I must be excused," said Mr. Anderson; "and +my parting advice to you is to let matters rest where they are, and +to endeavor to make a friend of the young lady. The time is short, +my dear madam—the time is short; and both you and myself are rapidly +approaching that station where no earthly riches are of any avail. I +should be happy to invite you to dinner, but my wife and daughter are +away, and I am taking my own meals at a neighbor's house. Good-morning!"</p> + +<p>And Miss Priscilla found herself bowed out of the office with great +politeness. She had counted on keeping herself, her horse, and her +servant at Mr. Anderson's expense; but now she must go to the tavern, +for the horse, at least, must have his dinner.</p> + +<p>There was now no object in her remaining all night, and the more she +thought of it, the more vexed she was with herself for the course she +had taken. How should she manage when she came home? The servants would +be certain to find out that Calista had been shut up in the empty house +all day, and, what was worse, they would be sure to tell of it, for +they were both on Calista's side.</p> + +<p>To do Miss Priscilla justice, she was not without better feelings. +She remembered that Calista had really seemed glad to see her down +stairs, and she thought, too, how she had rejected the child's offer of +friendship.</p> + +<p>"The child!"</p> + +<p>Yes, that was what Druey had always called her—Druey, who had stood by +her through evil report and unkindness, and to whom she had solemnly +given over the care of Calista. Suppose that when she got home she +should find Calista dead, or scared into insanity! Miss Priscilla was +as angry at herself as she had been at Calista. She thought matters +over, and decided, with a great pang, that she would give up the +contest, let the will be proved, and say no more about it. She had +counted on Miss Druett's ready money to carry on her schemes with Jael +and her husband, but then she could sell out some bank-stock.</p> + +<p>Then another cold misgiving crossed her mind. She had already let +these people have two or three hundred dollars. Suppose they should +be robbing and cheating her all the time! But she could not and would +not believe that. No, the treasure was there, and she would have it! +She would coax Calista to join with her: Calista was always lucky in +finding things! Yes, that would be the best plan.</p> + +<p>That Calista should refuse to be governed or coaxed, that she should +feel any lasting resentment for the way she had been treated, never +entered Miss Priscilla's head.</p> + +<p>Full of these thoughts, she stopped at Cassius's gate and called +for Chloe. Instead of Chloe, came out old Sally. Was ever anything +so unlucky! Cassius had been obliged to drive into town, and Chloe +had gone with him and expected to spend the night with Mrs. Fabian's +Miranda. Cassius would most likely stay to meeting, seeing he was +there, and so would not come home till late.</p> + +<p>This was worse and worse. Then Chloe would find out that Calista had +not gone away with Mr. Fabian. And what was she to do for supper? +David declared he could not and would not drive Jeff another step, and +the farm horses were away off down in the pasture. But then there was +Calista! No doubt the poor child was hungry enough by this time, and +for once she might get just what she liked for supper.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>It was not without an uncomfortable feeling that Miss Priscy ascended +the stairs to the attic story, and, unlocking the door, called—</p> + +<p>"Calista!"</p> + +<p>Then, as no answer came, "Calista, child, take the things away from the +door and let me come in; I want to speak to you! Don't be afraid. I am +not angry, though you have been a naughty girl. Come, let me in!"</p> + +<p>Still no answer. Exerting her strength, Miss Priscilla pushed away +the heavy chair which Calista had left standing against the door, and +entered.</p> + +<p>The room was empty. Everything was in its usual state, except that +Calista's trunks were gone.</p> + +<p>Much alarmed, she searched the house over, but every door was locked +and every window fastened. Calista was nowhere to be seen.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Leaving her to her own reflections, we will follow the fortunes of our +heroine.</p> + +<p>Calista's sleep was broken and restless till near morning, but then she +fell asleep and did not wake till near ten o'clock.</p> + +<p>When she did wake, she lay for some time in a half-dreamy state, +enjoying the softness of her bed and the luxurious prettiness of +her room, so different from the one she had so long inhabited. She +found a real pleasure in the pretty carpet, the easy chair with its +bright chintz, the Indian paper on the walls covered with processions +of camels and elephants, with wonderful birds and beasts, and men +still more wonderful. Presently her eyes fell upon the old army cloak +carelessly thrown over a chair, and like a flash came to her mind the +words of Cassius—</p> + +<p>"He had it on when he was struck with death!"</p> + +<p>She sprang out of bed, seized the coat, and felt in all the pockets. +There was nothing in any of them, but as she turned them out, she found +in the inside breast pocket a long rip. She put in her hand and pulled +out a folded paper carefully wrapped round with red tape, but not +sealed.</p> + +<p>She gave one glance at it, and another out of the window. Mr. Settson's +house was open, and so was the office. Clearly the family were at home.</p> + +<p>She waited no longer than to dress herself, and then, without seeing +or thinking of any one, she put on her hat, and, with the paper in her +hand, ran across to the office. There was no one in the outer room. She +knocked at the door of the inner office, and then, without waiting for +a reply, she opened it and went in.</p> + +<p>There sat Mr. Settson and Mr. Fabian, with an elderly man whom she had +never seen before.</p> + +<p>"Calista!" exclaimed both the gentlemen in surprise.</p> + +<p>And Mr. Fabian's voice had a shade of displeasure as he added,—</p> + +<p>"My dear, what has brought you here?"</p> + +<p>"This!" answered Calista, holding up her prize. "Mr. Settson, will you +please tell me what I have found?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Settson set down his snuff-box, and glancing at the outside of the +document, he opened it with eager haste. He looked it through, glanced +at the end, and then struck his hand on the table with a force which +made the ink jump out of the inkstand and the snuff out of the box, and +caused the office cat to utter a remonstrating mew.</p> + +<p>"The very thing!" said he. "We have it at last. Fabian, Williams, look +here!"</p> + +<p>They both rose and looked over his shoulder with eager curiosity.</p> + +<p>"That is it, Mr. Settson," said the elderly man, whom Mr. Settson +called Williams; "that is the signature I witnessed, and the other +signature is that of young Mr. John Blair, at that time studying in +our office. I have heard he was living somewhere west—in Detroit, I +believe. That is Mr. Durant's handwriting. The old gentleman gave him +instructions how to draw the will, and he came in next day and signed +it. I heard it read over to him myself."</p> + +<p>"But what in the world possessed him to go to a lawyer who was an +entire stranger, and in an obscure place like that?"</p> + +<p>"I think it was because he was not very well. I remember he said +something about his heart troubling him."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image004" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="image004"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b><em>Old Stanfield House.</em></b><br> +<b>"This!" answered Calista, holding up her prize.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Where did you find the will, Calista?" asked Mr. Settson.</p> + +<p>Calista described the way it had come into her possession.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. I see it all. He had put it in his pocket to bring to me as +he said, when he was taken with this fit. The will slipped through the +slit, and has staid there ever since. Well, my dear, you have made a +good morning's work. I must examine the document further, but from +what I see, I think we shall unseat Miss Priscilla from her high horse +without much trouble. Run in and see Mary, and I will tell you the +contents of the will when I know them myself."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I had better go back," said Calista, blushing. "I came out +without seeing any one, and Mrs. Fabian will think it very strange."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fabian will understand that you did quite right when I explain +matters to her," said Mr. Fabian; "I will return with you, and come +back directly. Have you had your breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear! Mrs. Fabian will be quite shocked, and we shall have you +ill."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Fabian was not shocked, nor was Calista ill. She ate her +breakfast with a good appetite, and then helped her hostess to rub the +skins off Siberian crab-apples, and then punch out the cores with a tin +tube, for, like most ladies of the time, Mrs. Fabian took pride and +pleasure in preparing quantities of sweetmeats.</p> + +<p>Oh, what a delight there was in the feeling of perfect quiet and +safety! How she enjoyed the shade of the back veranda, where they +sat at work, the sight and smell of the garden, the pretty, dainty +household work, the sight of Mrs. Fabian's neat French chintz and apron +of India grass-cloth, the soft, cultivated voice in which she told +Calista anecdotes of her travels abroad, interspersed with mild moral +reflections. There were people who considered Mrs. Fabian a thought +tedious, but Calista could have listened forever.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>After dinner Mr. Settson came over, and Calista was informed of the +provisions of her grandfather's will.</p> + +<p>"The Philadelphia property, together with fifteen thousand dollars in +money, is left unconditionally to your aunt Priscilla. The Stanfield +place, with all the farms, &c., the Cohansey property, and twenty +thousand dollars, are left, first to your father, after him to your +mother for her life, or so long as she should remain unmarried, +and after her to the child or children of Richard Stanfield, share +and share alike; the guardianship of said children being given to +Mr. Fabian and myself as executors of the will. There are some +legacies,—one of a hundred dollars to old Cassius, and as much to the +church here, in memory of his last wife."</p> + +<p>"Then I get more than Aunt Priscilla!" said Calista. "That seems hardly +fair."</p> + +<p>"No, you get a good deal less. The Philadelphia property is worth much +more than the Stanfield estate, properly so called. Have you any of +your mother's papers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; I brought them all with me, for I thought they might be +needed."</p> + +<p>"Very discreet in you. Have you any objection to my looking them over?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all, sir. I will bring them down."</p> + +<p>Calista left the room and soon returned with two or three orderly +bundles of papers and her mother's Bible.</p> + +<p>"This book has the date of my mother's marriage and of my birth +set down in it," said she. "I don't know whether they are of any +consequence at all—"</p> + +<p>"Of all the consequence in the world," said Mr. Settson, untying the +bundles and carefully looking them over. "Certificate of marriage—very +good; bills, &c.—of no great account. Is there any one of these letters +by which you can fix the date of your father's death?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—a letter from the captain of his company, telling all about +it. This is it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so I see. Well, my dear, all things are uncertain in this world, +but so far as I can see now, there is no more doubt about your coming +in possession of the Stanfield place at twenty-one than there is that +the sun will rise to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"It will be a great responsibility for a girl like me," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Very true; but we will hope you may have grace to use your fortune +wisely and rightly. Now as to another thing—I mean your place of +residence. I understand Miss Druett wished you to board at Miss +McPherson's; but I saw the good lady in New York, and she told me that +every room and bed in her house were engaged. Mrs. Fabian is anxious to +keep you with her, as she has no daughters living to bear her company. +Should you like that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, very much."</p> + +<p>"I should have liked to have you with us," continued Mr. Settson, "but +I find myself obliged to give a home to an aged aunt of my late wife's; +and to say truth, I think Mrs. Fabian, with her knowledge of the world +and society, a little better fitted to be the guide of such a—you +won't be offended if I say such a decided young lady as Miss Calista +Stanfield?—than my Alice."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, sir," said Calista, smiling and blushing. "And I am sure I am +quite contented here. I think Mrs. Fabian is lovely. Then you don't +think I shall have to go back to my aunt?" she added, rather anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed! Most decidedly not!" answered Mr. Settson, with emphasis. +"You must keep out of her way, and not go near the place at all."</p> + +<p>"But if it is her duty, papa," interposed Mary, who had been sitting +quite silently with her knitting. "Don't you think she ought to go if +there is any chance of doing Miss Priscilla any good? Who knows how she +might be the means of influencing her?"</p> + +<p>"I would go if it was thought right," said Calista; "but, oh, I should +dread it. I want to do my duty, I am sure," she added, anxiously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Settson took a pinch of snuff, and regarded his daughter with the +slightly sarcastic smile which she particularly dreaded.</p> + +<p>"It is the duty of such little girls as Calista and Mary to do as +they are bid by those who have the authority over them," said he. "It +is especially the duty of Calista, because there may be considerable +danger in her acting otherwise. So, if you please, we will consider +that matter settled. Is there anything else you would like to ask me +about?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; only—please don't be hard on Aunt Priscilla. I am sure she +is not quite in her right mind, and I 'am' dreadfully afraid of her, +especially since what she did yesterday; but I could not injure her for +the world."</p> + +<p>"Don't be alarmed, my dear; Miss Priscilla shall have every chance. +Leave all that to me. I must take these papers away with me, but I will +take great care of them. Good-bye. I suppose you and Mary have a great +many hours of gossip to make up."</p> + +<p>And Mr. Settson departed, leaving the girls to themselves.</p> + +<p>Calista gave a little skip as she closed the door after him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how glad I am!" said she. "I feel like a bird let out of a cage."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say I rather wonder at you, Calista," said Mary, in a +somewhat disapproving voice. "I should think you would be sorry for +your poor aunt,—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"'Deserted, at her utmost need<br> + By those her former bounty fed.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>For Mary had been reading poetry, and liked to quote it.</p> + +<p>Calista's face flushed. "I wonder who did the deserting," said she. +"Miss Priscilla, who went away to stay all night and left me locked up +alone without food or light, or myself, who got out and came away? As +to her bounty, the less said the better."</p> + +<p>"But if you could do her good, I think you ought to sacrifice yourself +and not choose a life of luxury with a worldly, fashionable woman like +Mrs. Fabian. I must say I am disappointed in you."</p> + +<p>"And I am disappointed in you," said Calista, with some spirit. "I +thought you had more sense. Don't you see that I must obey your father +and Mr. Fabian, whom Providence has so plainly placed over me? As to +calling Mrs. Fabian worldly, I don't know what you mean by that. She +has been as kind as a mother to me, and I don't think it is just the +thing to speak of her in that way in her own house. But come, don't +let's quarrel. I want to hear all about your travels. Where did you go? +And where did your father pick up this Mr. Williams?"</p> + +<p>"He found him quite by accident in a little town not far from New York, +where we stopped over night," answered Mary, making a desperate grasp +after her good humor, and partly recovering it. "We were in the stage +together, and we got talking. He asked where we were from, and when +papa told him, he said he once met a gentleman from our place under +rather peculiar circumstances—General Stanfield. Of course that set +papa asking questions, and he soon found out the whole story. So your +dreams are fulfilled, Calista, and you will be able to do what you +please with the old mansion."</p> + +<p>"I don't seem to think or care much about that now," said Calista. "Of +course, I am glad to have something decent to wear, and to finish my +education; but I had rather set my heart on being a teacher. However, +there is no telling what may happen yet. 'There's many a slip,' you +know."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_19">CHAPTER NINETEENTH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MISS PRISCILLA MAKES CHANGES.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE proverb which Calista had quoted did not seem likely to be +fulfilled in her case. The business went on smoothly.</p> + +<p>Calista wisely resolved to ask no questions, and to think as little as +possible about the matter. She worked very hard at her lessons, did +her best to please Mrs. Fabian, accepting in the best spirit all that +lady's hints about manners, dress, and so forth, and fell into all the +ways of a daughter of the house. She was happier than she had supposed +possible, and would have been quite happy but for her anxiety about her +aunt. Mrs. Fabian said she should never be able to part with Calista, +and began to calculate the time of her nephew's return from Europe.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla had waited impatiently for Chloe's return. And the +moment she entered the house, she was saluted with the question,—</p> + +<p>"Chloe, where's Miss Calista?"</p> + +<p>"Why, she's at Mrs. Fabian's, of course, a-having of a good time," +answered Chloe, assuming that mask of absolute non-comprehension which +only a negro or an Indian can assume to perfection. "The last I saw of +her she was a-setting on the back stoop helping Mrs. Fabian peel and +core crab-apples. Mrs. Fabian, she has a little tin thing that she had +made a purpose, but I always takes a quill," concluded Chloe, with the +air of one communicating valuable information. "I think the tin kind of +blacks 'em, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! What do I care about your crab-apples?" said Miss Priscilla, +impatiently. "When is she coming home?"</p> + +<p>"Not for a good long while, I should think," answered Chloe, with an +innocent air of surprise. "She took her trunk, didn't she? I thought I +saw it standing in her bed-room."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla was not pleased. She said no more at the time, but the +next day she ordered the chaise to drive to town.</p> + +<p>"Put Miss Calista's room in nice order," said she to Chloe. "You can +give her the wash-basin and pitcher out of the front bed-room, and some +white towels out of the press. I presume she will come back with me. A +day or two's visit is all very well, but I don't want her staying on to +be spoiled by that foolish woman."</p> + +<p>"Now, I call Mrs. Fabian a real nice lady," said Chloe. "She hardly +ever speaks a harsh word, and knows how to keep house as well as any +one I ever saw."</p> + +<p>"Much you know about housekeeping! Tell David to have the chaise ready, +and get out my brown silk and my India shawl."</p> + +<p>In the brown silk and the India shawl did Miss Priscilla alight at Mr. +Fabian's, and ask for Miss Stanfield.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Fabian, please don't leave me alone with her," said Calista. +"I don't know what she may do."</p> + +<p>"Don't be alarmed, my dear, nothing shall hurt you," said gentle Mrs. +Fabian. "Miss Stanfield has not asked for me, but I shall remain in the +next room so as to be within call."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla greeted her niece with unusual cordiality, and Calista +was glad to respond. They talked about a variety of things for a few +minutes, and then Miss Priscilla said, in a matter-of-fact way,—</p> + +<p>"I think you had better go home with me to-day, Calista. David will not +be in till Saturday, and you don't want to make your visit too long."</p> + +<p>Calista summoned all her power, and inwardly asked for help from the +Source of all strength.</p> + +<p>"I am not going back again at present, aunt," said she, gently. "You +know Miss Druett—"</p> + +<p>"I know Miss Druett made a very silly will, which I could break up in a +day if I chose, but I shall not try," interrupted Miss Priscilla. "You +are quite welcome to her little savings. But your place is with me, and +I must insist on your coming home at once."</p> + +<p>"I cannot do it, aunt," answered Calista, firmly but kindly. "You have +no right to expect it after the way you have treated me. Mr. Fabian and +Mr. Settson both wish me to live here."</p> + +<p>"Pray, what has Mr. Settson to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"He will tell you if you ask him. Please do, aunt. There is something +new turned up that you ought to know about."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" said Miss Priscilla, turning pale.</p> + +<p>"I would rather not tell you, aunt. Please ask Mr. Settson. It is +something about a will. And, aunt, I took grandfather's old cloak to +put round me; will you take it back with you?"</p> + +<p>"Cloak! What cloak?" asked Miss Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"The old blue cloak with red facings. I took it to put over me because +the evening was so cold. The one you gave me to cut into carpet-rags."</p> + +<p>"I believe it was the carpet-rags scared you away," said Miss +Priscilla, trying to make a joke of the matter; "we won't say any more +about them, and you shall spin or do what you please. And only just +let me have that money, and you will see what will come of it," she +whispered. "Jael is quite sure we shall find the treasure the next full +moon."</p> + +<p>"Jael! Oh, Aunt Priscilla, don't have anything to do with those +wretches. Pray, don't."</p> + +<p>"Much you know about it! Just see what she brought me only last week." +And Miss Priscilla exhibited a large gold coin.</p> + +<p>Calista looked at it.</p> + +<p>"Why, aunt, how can you be humbugged so!" said she, laughing. "This +is one of the very pieces I found in grandfather's desk. Don't you +remember, they were all marked? See here," and Calista pointed out the +small deep cross cut on the margin of the guinea.</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla snatched it back.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child! As if two guineas could not be marked. Come, get your +things on."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Priscilla, you must excuse me," said Calista, decidedly. "I am +not going home with you. I wish I could, but you yourself have made it +impossible. What did you think would ever become of me if I had not +found a way of escaping, when you shut me up in the old house to stay +without light or food all night?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't stay away all night," said Miss Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"But you meant to, aunt, or else why did you send Chloe into town to +stay with her sister?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to know how you got out, that's all!" said Miss +Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"A way was made for me. No, aunt, I cannot go back at present, if +for no other reason than that you allow that woman to come about the +place, and have dealings with her. Oh, aunt, don't!" exclaimed Calista. +"Please don't! I am sure nothing but harm can come of it. Even if you +found the money—if it is not all a cheat and delusion, as I believe it +is—what good would it do you? You must soon leave it, even if it does +not leave you. Just think how short this life is, and how long eternity +is; do think of your immortal soul!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! I am not to be scared by Methodistical cant," said Miss +Priscilla, though she trembled visibly. "But if you are absolutely +determined to put yourself into the hands of these people, who will +turn you out helpless on the world just as soon as they have stripped +you of everything, do so. I wash my hands of you. And when you are +stripped and turned out, or kept to clean floors and black shoes for +that proud fool of a woman, don't come back to me. I wash my hands +of you. It was a bad day for me when I first took you out of the +poor-house. Don't come back to me. I don't like snakes!"</p> + +<p>A part of this amiable speech was intended for the ears of Mrs. Fabian, +whose presence in the next room Miss Priscilla suspected, though she +did not see her. But Mrs. Fabian, calmly superior, worked on at her +lace collar, and smiled. She knew the strength that lay in silence.</p> + +<p>"Shall I get you the cloak, aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I don't choose that my dead father's clothes should be in such +hands. And do not call me 'aunt,' if you please. I acknowledge no +relationship to you any more."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla departed, and crossed the road to Mr. Settson's +office, from which she was seen to issue after a somewhat lengthened +conference, followed by Mr. Settson with a large tin box, which he +placed carefully in the chaise. Rejecting the gentleman's assistance, +Miss Priscilla unfastened Jeff, the pony, and drove out of Cohansey +town, never to enter its streets again.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Calista retired to her room and, girl-like, indulged in a hearty fit of +crying. She could not return with Aunt Priscilla, and yet the thought +of her aunt living alone, without even the solace of her evening +cribbage and backgammon, was dreadful to her. But there was no use +crying about it to annoy Mrs. Fabian, and nothing she could do about +it—and then she remembered she could pray about it. She could not +influence or comfort or protect Aunt Priscilla, but there was One who +could do all these things, and to that One Calista betook herself with +simple and child-like faith.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The next day but one, as Calista set out for school, she saw Chloe and +David talking to Mr. Settson at his office gate. He beckoned her across +the street.</p> + +<p>"Here is a new state of things," said he. "Chloe tells me that your +aunt has turned her and David away, almost at a moment's warning. Worse +than that, she has taken that woman Jael and her husband into the house +to live."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Settson, can nothing be done?" exclaimed Calista, much +distressed. "Think of her alone with those dreadful creatures! She will +be ill-treated, if not robbed and murdered. Can nothing be done to save +her from them? Surely, she must be crazy!"</p> + +<p>"I must turn the matter over and see what can be done," said Mr. +Settson; "but I don't know where to get hold of the case. Miss +Stanfield has an undoubted right to take whom she pleases into her own +house, and, so long as she displays such acuteness in money matters, we +can hardly call her insane. But do not be distressed, my dear; we will +try to keep watch of their doings. At any rate, it is not your fault."</p> + +<p>"How did she manage it?" asked Calista of Chloe.</p> + +<p>"Well, she came home in a great tantrum, ready to turn the house out +of window; then she calls me in and wants to know how you got out. And +says I,—</p> + +<p>"'Why, Miss Priscy, you told me yourself she went away in the carriage +with Mr. Fabian.'</p> + +<p>"Then she wanted to know if any of your things was left behind in the +house, and I said, not that I knew of. For, you see, just as soon as +she was gone, David and me, we moved your trunks to a safe place, +thinking to send them to you. Then she didn't say any more, only went +up and rummaged over your room. That night old Jael came and stayed all +the evening, and the next morning came again. And then Miss Priscy told +David and me we could go—she didn't want any more of us, and paid us +up. And we bundled up our things and borrowed Cash's old wagon and came +away. And we's got your things along with ours, and I suppose we've got +to look-out for some place to be in and something to do."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have cared," said David, who was a man of few words, "only +for the dumb beasts—Jeff and the farm horses, and the cows." And David +turned away and wiped a suspicious drop from his eyelids.</p> + +<p>"Miss McPherson wants a cook and a coachman, I know," said Calista; +"how would that suit you?"</p> + +<p>"First-rate," said Chloe, speaking for both, as usual; "wouldn't it, +old man?"</p> + +<p>"Suit me," said David. "I ain't afraid to groom horses, nor drive +horses, with any man in Cumberland County. But I don't know as you +could cook good enough for the young ladies."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you go 'long! He will have his joke, you see, David will," said +Chloe, apologizing for her partner's light-mindedness. "Well, maybe you +might speak to the lady, Miss Calista. We'll leave your trunks to Mrs. +Fabian's, and then I guess we'll go to Jubalina's."</p> + +<p>"That is just what I have been expecting," said Calista, as she walked +along to school with Mary. "If such things were, I should think Jael +had bewitched her, as Chloe says. To think of her taking those people +into the house to live with her!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps if you had staid she would not have done it," said Mary, who +had been planning for Calista a grand self-sacrifice, and did not like +to have her romance destroyed.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it would have made any difference," said Calista. +"One thing she wanted me for was that she might use me in her +treasure-seeking scheme. And do you know she showed me a guinea which +Jael professed to have found, and it was one of the very pieces which +I found when I looked over grandfather's desk. I knew it, because they +were all marked."</p> + +<p>"How could she come by it?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose aunt paid it to them—she has given them ever so much money +already—and Jael gave it back, trusting to aunt's blindness not to +recognize it. Oh dear! I wish this will business was finished; then we +could soon clear out the poor old house."</p> + +<p>"I should hardly think you would wish to turn your poor aunt out of the +house where she has lived so long, even if you don't want to live with +her," said Mary, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>Calista faced round upon her rather sharply.</p> + +<p>"Who said I did? Or why should you suppose that one invariably means +to do the very worst thing possible under the circumstances? Would you +like to have any one do so by you? You said only yesterday that it was +a great cross to have your mother's aunt come into the family and take +up the best room, though she seems to be a very nice, kind old lady."</p> + +<p>"She smokes," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Well, do you think it would be very much better if, instead of +smoking, she addressed some insulting or sarcastic remark to you, or +now and then threw a book at you for variety?"</p> + +<p>"But I have taken up my cross," said Mary, somewhat taken aback.</p> + +<p>"Would you if you could help it?" asked Calista. "Wouldn't you be glad +this minute if the old lady were sent somewhere else?"</p> + +<p>Mary did not answer.</p> + +<p>"That is not my idea of taking up the cross," Calista continued. "And +any way, Mary, it is my duty to obey those whom Providence has set over +me, as your father says. I won't deny that I enjoy the change. It is +something not to go to bed hungry, and to have a comfortable bed to +sleep in."</p> + +<p>"Surely you did not go hungry?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I did, half the time; and I had not bed-clothes enough for +decent neatness, not to say warmth. I wonder how that would suit you, +who must have at least three or four clean towels every week. Only for +Miss Druett, I should have had nothing but woollen sheets all winter. +More than that, I never had a cent of pocket-money for any use till +Miss Druett took charge of me. But I don't mean that my present life +shall make me self-indulgent. I have been trying to lay down some rules +for myself, like Mrs. Fletcher. Oh, Mary, I wish you would read that +book!"</p> + +<p>"I should like to see it," said Mary, beginning to feel a little +ashamed.</p> + +<p>"I will lend it to you. Then no one could live with Mrs. Fabian without +being the better for it," continued Calista. "She is so good and +gentle, and does so much in such a quiet way. Just think! She sends +poor Mrs. Rolfe a dinner fit for a sick person every day, and always +sees to it herself."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you told me," said Mary, feeling still more ashamed of her +harsh judgment. "I wonder if I could not do something for her."</p> + +<p>"She wants old linen very much. I have just been making some +handkerchiefs for her, out of a fine old linen night-dress of mother's."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how you could do that; I should think everything of your +mother's would be sacred," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I thought mother would like it if she were here," said Calista, +simply; "and I wanted to give something of my own."</p> + +<p>Here the conversation ended.</p> + +<p>But as Mary sat down to her desk, she said to herself, "I am envious +and jealous, and that is the whole of it. Calista's money has spoiled +me more than it has her." And the snake, being called by his right +name, dived into his den to be seen no more that day.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_20">CHAPTER TWENTIETH.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>AN EXPLOSION.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE weeks went on very quietly with Calista for a time—so quietly and +pleasantly that she sometimes wondered whether either her present or +her former life were not a dream. She worked as hard in school as if +she still had no other prospect than that of becoming a teacher, and +found great delight in her drawing; for which she showed a special +talent. At home she took the place of a daughter. She helped in the +housekeeping, and learned to make cakes, and preserves, and pickles in +endless variety. She read aloud to Mrs. Fabian, and saw, in a quiet +way, a good deal of company, and listened to a great deal of clever +conversation.</p> + +<p>She would have been perfectly happy only for that thought which was +always in the background—poor Aunt Priscilla. She could hear very +little about her. Mr. Davis, who managed the farm, reported that he +rarely saw her. He thought she was shut in her room a good deal. Jael +had a younger woman with her,—her daughter, he thought,—and he feared +Miss Priscilla did not fare very well.</p> + +<p>At last, one crisp, delightful morning in late October, Calista came +in from an early run in the garden with her hands full of the hardy +flowers which that mild climate often spares till Christmas. As she +came into the entry, she found old Cassius talking with Mr. Fabian, and +both wearing such anxious, perturbed faces that she started and dropped +her basket.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am sure something has happened to aunt!" said she. "Do tell me! +What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Don't alarm yourself, my dear," said Mr. Fabian. "I think the time has +come for interfering in your poor aunt's behalf. Tell Miss Calista your +story, Cassius, but first come in out of the draught."</p> + +<p>"Tom Edgar and me was a-coming home from sitting up with old Mr. +Heminway," Cassius began, without any of his usual prefaces; "it was +about five, and not very light, when we see old Zeke and Jael come out +of Miss Stanfield's house, all loaded down with bundles. They hid 'em +away in the Red Hollow, and started back for more, I suppose. Tom says, +says he,—</p> + +<p>"'Uncle Cash, they're robbing the house. I wonder if they've killed the +old lady?'</p> + +<p>"Says I, 'Tom, you keep watch here, and I'll run home and get my horse +and ride into town as fast as I can go.'</p> + +<p>"You see, I thought Tom was the strongest, if it came to a tussle, and +I knew the old mare would go faster with me than with any one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Fabian, do let us go out there at once!" said Calista, in an +agony of impatience. "Oh, won't you do something?"</p> + +<p>"We will do everything. Don't distress yourself, my dear. We must get +some force together, and proper authority, and then we will set out +directly," said Mr. Fabian.</p> + +<p>"But you will take me with you?" said Calista.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, not till we find out what state things are in. I promise +you, you shall go the moment there is anything to do. Now, be a good +girl and try to keep composed."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Calista; "only do send for me as soon as you can."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Mr. Fabian was not the man to let grass grow under his feet, but it +seemed an age of agonized suspense before Tom Edgar arrived on his +splendid black horse, about the last relic of his prosperous days.</p> + +<p>"We've caught them—caught them in the very act!" said he, as soon as +he could speak. "I believe they would have got off, but the old woman, +in her hurry, tried to cross the middle of the hollow, and got bogged. +I had hard work to save her, I can tell you. I thought I should go in +myself. They had cleaned out the house pretty well, but we have got +some of the things, and I guess we shall find the rest."</p> + +<p>"But my aunt!" exclaimed Calista. "Never mind the things."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm afraid the old lady is in a pretty bad way," said Tom, +gravely. "Mr. Fabian says you are to come out in the little carriage +directly, and bring Aunt Betsy and the doctor; and here's a note for +madam. I spoke to the old lady coming along, and she will be all ready, +and the doctor is half way there by this time. Here's the note."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fabian says:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'I wish you to come at once, and bring some clean linen and clothes +for the poor thing, who is in a pitiful condition, and quite +unconscious. Let Calista come with you. It is possible her voice may +rouse Miss Stanfield. Only for Cassius and Tom we should never have +succeeded.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"You must have some refreshment, Mr. Edgar," said Mrs. Fabian, always +considerate. "Will you take some breakfast? Miranda, give Mr. Edgar +some breakfast. Put on your bonnet, Calista. I will quickly get +together what is needed."</p> + +<p>With such a perfect housekeeper as Mrs. Fabian, it was the work of a +few minutes to collect a basket of clean linen, tea, and sugar, and +whatever a sick person would be likely to need. They called for Aunt +Betsy, but she had already "caught a ride" with Dr. Elsmore, and when +they arrived at the Stanfield mansion, she met them at the door.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you've come. Did thee bring some clean linen, Maria Fabian? +Yes, I see: trust thee to think of everything. Doctor says she has +been drugged with something, though he doesn't know what, and that +washing her and changing her clothes will be as likely to rouse her as +anything. Calista, thee 'd better stay down here till we get her fixed +a little."</p> + +<p>"No, no, let her come up," said the doctor. "Miss Stanfield may notice +her niece's voice."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, do," said Calista.</p> + +<p>And in a moment she had run up the well-remembered stairs, and was +bending over her aunt, kissing her and speaking words of love and +tenderness into her ear. But there was no voice, nor any that answered.</p> + +<p>Priscilla lay on her bed, her eyes half open and dull as a dead +person's. Her night-dress and bed-clothes looked as if they had not +been changed for weeks. Some dry remnants of bread and a tumbler of +sour milk stood near her on a little table. She was terribly emaciated, +and was hardly to be recognized by those who had seen her a few weeks +before.</p> + +<p>"She looks starved," whispered Calista.</p> + +<p>"I fear she is starved, and worse," answered the doctor, gravely. "But, +now, if you know of a room near by which can be comfortably fitted up, +you may set about it, while Miss Betsy and Aunt Sally get her washed +and her clothes changed."</p> + +<p>"We had better take Miss Druett's room, I think," said Calista, to Mrs. +Fabian, as they stood in the entry. "The bed is tolerably good, and it +is the only one, except mine, which has been used since I came to the +house."</p> + +<p>"And where was yours?"</p> + +<p>"Up in the attic," answered Calista. "This is Miss Druett's room," she +continued, opening the door as she spoke. "It does not seem to have +been disturbed. Here are all the seals just as Mr. Fabian put them on. +I wonder they did not break open the drawers."</p> + +<p>"Very likely some superstition restrained them," said Mrs. Fabian. "It +was a sad day for your poor aunt when Miss Druett died."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she was the only person who had any influence with her. Shall I +open all the windows? It seems very close."</p> + +<p>"Do, my dear, and see if you can procure some wood and the means of +making a fire. Nothing freshens up the air of a room like an open fire."</p> + +<p>When Calista came back with her basket of wood and chips, and looked in +the cupboard for a tinder-box (there were no lucifers or parlor matches +in those days), Mrs. Fabian attacked the bed as energetically as any +housemaid.</p> + +<p>By the time the poor invalid had been washed and dressed, the room had +assumed a neat and habitable aspect. Sally carried her in her arms as +if she had been an infant, and laid her in bed.</p> + +<p>"Is she dead?" asked Calista, in a tearful whisper.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, honey; she's better. She opened her eyes, and swallowed some +water. Now I'll just run down and make a little wine-whey—that's soon +made and very strengthening—and if she takes that, we'll try her with +some broth. But we must be very careful, for I don't believe she has +had any food for two or three days. I suppose there is wine in the +house?"</p> + +<p>"There ought to be plenty in the cellar, but I have no notion where +the keys are or what may be left," replied Calista. "For aught I know, +these wretches may have drunk it all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've got the keys. She had them hid in the bed, as if that would +do any good."</p> + +<p>And Sally departed, leaving Mrs. Fabian and Calista with the invalid.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Presently Aunt Sally came back with her whey, and with great care +proceeded to feed Miss Priscilla, who swallowed two or three spoonsful +apparently without the least consciousness of what she was doing.</p> + +<p>"That's well," said Sally. "When folks can swallow, there's always +hopes of them. Now, I must go home for a little, but I'll come back and +stay to-night. Do you mean to stay, Miss Calista?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Please do let me, Mrs. Fabian," said Calista, anticipating +Mrs. Fabian's cautious—"Really, I don't know." "You know she might come +to herself any time and know me. Oh, it would be worth so much if she +would. After all, she was my father's sister, and she did give me a +home. I am afraid I have been very ungrateful."</p> + +<p>"Some folks is thankful for small favors, ain't they?" said Sally, +aside, to Mrs. Fabian. "I wouldn't treat a stray cat as Miss Priscy +used to treat that poor child. But there is something in what she +says," she added, aloud. "Miss Priscy might come to and know her, and +perhaps say something she ought to hear."</p> + +<p>"I will ask Mr. Fabian," said the lady, perplexed between her feeling +for Miss Priscy and her care for Calista. "He will know what is best."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Really, my love, I think Calista is right," said Mr. Fabian. "I think +there is no real danger. These wretches are already on their way to +Cohansey jail under a very sufficient guard, and Mr. Davis and his son +have volunteered to remain in the house all night. As Calista says, it +is very desirable she should be with her aunt when she recovers her +senses, both from motives of affection and because the poor lady may be +able to give us important information."</p> + +<p>"I think you said you had recovered all the property," said Mrs. Fabian.</p> + +<p>"All that is recoverable; that is, all the silver and such like. A +great deal has been destroyed in mere wantonness. And as for the wines, +real Burgundy and the most valuable Madeira wasted like water." And +Mr. Fabian shut his eyes and groaned. "They must have been tipsy when +they planned their flight, or they would have been more clever about +it. The old woman, who seemed to feel some gratitude to Tom Edgar for +rescuing her from a terrible death in the bog, said they tried to open +the bricked up cellar, but every time they did, they heard the old +gentleman firing pistols at them inside."</p> + +<p>"Lawful Suz!" said Sally. "What do you s'pose it was?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt the bursting of champagne and cider bottles disturbed by the +concussion. I think, my love, we had better go back and send Calista +some comforts and necessaries in the way of provisions and the like. +One or both of us can come out in the morning."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fabian bade Calista farewell with many embraces. In about two +hours the horses came back with a load of bedding, provisions, and the +like, and also with Chloe, who, on hearing of the catastrophe, had at +once and adroitly inserted Jubalina in her place at Miss McPherson's, +and came out to help take care of her old and her young miss.</p> + +<p>Calista's watch was destined to last more than one or two days. Miss +Priscilla remained in about the same state, eating and drinking what +was given her, but, as it seemed, almost without consciousness. Mrs. +Fabian had fitted up a comfortable room for Calista, and Miss Betsy +would not allow her to sit up at night; but by day she only left the +sick room for her meals and the open air exercise her friends insisted +on.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>One afternoon she was sitting alone with her aunt, Miss Betsy having +gone to lie down. It was one of those perfect days which never come +except late in the autumn, and both windows were open, though a little +fire was burning on the hearth. Calista sat by the open window musing +over all the changes that had taken place in a year. She almost felt +inclined to doubt her own identity. Chloe had just been up to ask what +Miss Calista would have for supper; and as Miss Calista, as usual, had +no opinion of her own, she had suggested hot cream biscuit and fried +oysters.</p> + +<p>"Just to think,—" said Calista to herself, as she leaned out of the +window to watch a flight of birds making for the reed-beds on the +river—"just to think of Chloe's asking 'me' what I would like for +supper! I, who used to be snapped at and sent away from the table for +asking for more butter. To think how many times I have gone to bed +hungry in this very house! I wonder if it is all a dream, like the +dreams of pudding and roast meat I used to have in those days."</p> + +<p>A slight movement at the bed made her look round. Miss Priscilla was +regarding her with a look of intelligence and full of wonder. Calista +felt the need of perfect calmness, but her heart beat fast as she bent +over her aunt.</p> + +<p>"Calista! It is Calista, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Priscy. Are you better? Do you want anything?"</p> + +<p>She waited in a kind of awe for her aunt's first words, anti when they +came, she almost laughed aloud in the sudden revulsion of feeling.</p> + +<p>"Calista, who is frying oysters?"</p> + +<p>"Chloe, aunt. Mrs. Fabian sent some."</p> + +<p>"Chloe!" in a tone of surprise. Then, as memory came slowly back, "But +how did you come here?"</p> + +<p>"I came to take care of you, Aunt Priscy."</p> + +<p>"But you must not stay!" said Miss Priscilla, in a low tone of abject +terror. "They will come back and kill you, and give me more of that +dreadful medicine. Oh, Calista, I haven't been good to you, but can't +you get me away from them? Can't you?"</p> + +<p>"You need have no more fear of those wretches, Aunt Priscy," said +Calista, trembling between fear and excitement. "They are all safe in +Cohansey jail."</p> + +<p>"All! What, Jael too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, all; and you have no more to fear from them. Aunt Betsy and +myself are taking care of you; and Chloe has come back to do the work."</p> + +<p>"But how was it? And, where am I?" asked Miss Priscy, bewildered. "This +is not my room; this is Druey's!"</p> + +<p>"We moved you in here to have your room and bed cleaned, Aunt Priscy. +Don't you like it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is all very nice; and you are a good girl to come back—a very +good girl. You won't leave me, will you?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, aunt," said Calista, trying to steady her voice. "You know +I would not have gone if I could have helped it."</p> + +<p>"I know! But my mind is confused," said the poor lady. "Are you sure +those people are gone?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure, aunt. Did they use you badly?"</p> + +<p>"They beat me and starved me to make me tell where my father's money +was hid, and when I said I didn't know, they gave me horrible stuff. It +made me crazy."</p> + +<p>"But you are better now," said Calista.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am not crazy now. Calista, I want to see Mr. Settson. Send for +him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we'll send for him right away," said Miss Betsy, who had entered +the room unperceived; "but thee mustn't talk any more now. Calista, go +to thy supper, and tell John Davis to go for Mr. Settson—</p> + +<p>"And the doctor," she added, following her to the door. "I mistrust she +will not last long now she has come to herself."</p> + +<p>Calista returned to kiss her aunt, and Miss Priscy held her with her +thin hand and looked wistfully at her.</p> + +<p>"I should like a nice fresh raw oyster," she said. "Could I have one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, dear; you shall have what you want," said Calista, unable +to keep back her tears at the changed tone and manner; "shall she not, +Aunt Betsy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, an oyster is just the thing; but let Calista go now."</p> + +<p>"And, Calista, tell Chloe not to use butter to fry with. It is +extravagant, and lard is just as good."</p> + +<p>"I will, aunt." And Calista finally escaped.</p> + +<p>She sent a messenger for the doctor and lawyer, who came together.</p> + +<p>"Let her have just what she fancies; it won't make any difference," +was the doctor's sentence; "she is running down like a clock. There is +nothing to be done but to give her a little stimulant to keep her up as +long as we can. But it is wonderful how clear her mind is. She seems as +bright as ever."</p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla had a short private conference with Mr. Settson, who +came out of the room wiping his glasses and his eyes.</p> + +<p>"She wants you, Calista," said he. "She understands the whole affair +now, and says she is glad all will come to you. Shall I send any one +out to you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, if Mary would come! If she is not afraid, I should so like to have +her."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>But Mary was afraid, and showed it so obviously that her father decided +that she would be neither a help nor a comfort, and accepted Miss +Meeks's offer instead. Mr. Fabian was disabled by one of his rare +attacks of illness, and his wife could not leave him; but she heaped +Miss Meeks with everything she thought could be a comfort to herself or +Calista, remarking in her silvery, emphatic voice, that she was glad +Calista had friends who would not desert her in the hour of trial.</p> + +<p>Poor Mary fled into her room to cry herself into a fit of sick +headache. It was a terrible tumble, but a wholesome, and it was noticed +that Mary's Christianity was hereafter much more charitable and less +didactic in its character.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>When Calista came back to her aunt's bedside, she took both her hands +and drew her down beside her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Settson has told me all about the will," said she. "I did not hide +it, Calista. I did not believe my father ever made it. But it is quite +right. I was a wicked woman. I had Richard's letters, and never let my +father see them. Poor Dick! He was such a pretty boy, with curly hair. +'Pity' he used to call me; but I had not much pity on him. But father +need not have taught him—"</p> + +<p>She seemed to be wandering and, desirous to call her back, Calista +said, gently—</p> + +<p>"But you are sorry now, Aunt Priscy. You wouldn't do so again."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am sorry. I would take it back, but we can't take back the +past. It won't come back. Calista, I was not good to you, but you won't +turn me out of the house, will you? I was born here, and I should like +to—You won't turn me out, will you?" she repeated, wistfully looking +into Calista's face.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, aunt! Don't think of such a thing!" said Calista. "But +don't mind about business—not now. Don't you want to have Mr. Alger or +Mr. Lee come to see you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" said Miss Priscy. "But you may get your Bible and read to me, +if you like. Read in St. John. Your grandmother liked that."</p> + +<p>Glad of so much concession, Calista got her book and read on far into +the night. The restlessness of death was on Miss Priscilla, but so long +as Calista read, she was tolerably quiet, sometimes murmuring over +words that struck her mind or fancy.</p> + +<p>At last she dropped asleep, and Calista dozed too, leaning on the side +of the bed. She was wakened by a gentle touch from Miss Meeks, who had +shared her vigil and spent almost the whole night in prayer.</p> + +<p>Calista looked at her aunt, and by the light of a new day saw the awful +gray shadow which never falls but once.</p> + +<p>Her aunt was sensible; she pressed Calista's hand and spoke faintly—</p> + +<p>"Child—never love money—it is poison if you do; you'll have a great +deal—but you had better lose it all—than set your heart on it."</p> + +<p>"You will forgive me, won't you, aunt?" said Calista, through her tears.</p> + +<p>"There was nothing to forgive," said she; "I am the one to need +forgiveness—you and Druey were good to me—always." She held Calista's +hand fast in hers, and looked fixedly at her.</p> + +<p>Then collecting her strength for a last effort, "God bless you!" she +said, in her old strong tones—"God bless you!" Her head fell back.</p> + +<p>"She is gone," said Aunt Chloe, coming forward and closing the poor +eyes that had looked their last. "The Lord have mercy on her! She +confessed him in her death, if she didn't in her life."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>There is little more to tell. Old Jael was no sooner in Cohansey +jail than she was attacked with rheumatic fever, of which she died +after long suffering. She seemed much struck with Tom Edgar's bravery +in saving her life at the risk of his own. She had every comfort +consistent with her situation, but there was no cure and little +alleviation was possible. At first she positively refused to hear one +word on religion; but Tom Edgar at last won her to hear the Bible read, +and by slow degrees her mind opened to the truth.</p> + +<p>Before she died she made a full confession. She said she and her +husband had imposed on Miss Priscilla's credulity, in order to gain +access to General Stanfield's house and get possession of the treasure +which they believed he had hidden there. They had meant to frighten +away Miss Druett and Calista, or to work on Miss Priscilla till she +drove them out of the house, but the death of the former had opened the +way for them more easily than they expected.</p> + +<p>They had found Miss Priscilla harder to deal with than they expected. +Her suspicions became aroused, and she insisted on keeping the keys +herself, so that at last they had given her things to make her keep her +bed. What the "things" were she obstinately refused to tell, saying +that some one might make a bad use of them again, but they were roots +and herbs that her people knew of.</p> + +<p>She declared that her daughter had nothing to do with the robbery or +with ill-treating Miss Priscilla. There being no proof against the +younger woman, she was allowed to go free. And after her mother's +death, she disappeared from the place.</p> + +<p>Zeke was tried and convicted, but his mind failed so entirely before +the end of the trial that he was sent to an asylum; from which, +however, he contrived to escape, and was found dead in the Red Hollow, +to which some glimmering of remembrance had no doubt led him.</p> + +<p>The old house was put in good repair, but Calista did not come to live +in it for several years. She lived as a daughter with Mr. and Mrs. +Fabian, cheering their old age with daughterly care and affection.</p> + +<p>As soon as she was of age, she visited her mother's old home, where +she found Mrs. Tom Folsom old and poor, but still working to support +herself and her helpless son, and after much persuasion prevailed on +that lady to accept a tolerable provision, which should place her +above the need of labor much too hard for her age. Miss Malvina's +little old red house happening to be in the market, Calista bought +and fitted it up neatly as a residence for her cousin, and saw her +comfortably established before leaving her. Mrs. John Folsom, who was +still preaching self-denial, thought Miss Stanfield might have used +her money to better purpose, but every one else was pleased to see the +hard-working, independent woman so well provided for.</p> + +<p>Nor was this Calista's only work of benevolence. Her money was not +like a stagnant reservoir, poisoning all who came near, but being +kept running like a flowing stream, it brought many a blessing which +returned to the owner again. It paid Mary Burns's way through school +till she was able to take a first-class place as teacher. It brightened +and soothed the declining years of Miss Meeks. And far and wide, in +heathen lands and at home, it helped to spread the good tidings of the +gospel of peace.</p> + +<p>"Calista is not spoiled, though she has seen so much of the world and +had so much money," remarked Mary Settson, when Calista came home from +Europe, whither she had gone on her bridal tour when she married Mr. +Fabian's nephew. "I was a little afraid for her, but she is not spoiled +at all."</p> + +<p>"The world has not spoiled her, because she has never loved the world," +said Belle Adair—Belle Adair no more, but the hard-working wife of a +city clergyman. "Neither money nor the world can do us any harm unless +we let them into our hearts. And depend upon it, Mary, those who live +for this world most entirely are those who get the least enjoyment out +of it."</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="letter"> + "THEY THAT WILL BE RICH FALL INTO TEMPTATION AND A SNARE . . . THE LOVE +OF MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL."—<em>Paul to Timothy.</em><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75576 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75576-h/images/image001.jpg b/75576-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8e79b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/75576-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/75576-h/images/image002.jpg b/75576-h/images/image002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4fc1be9 --- /dev/null +++ b/75576-h/images/image002.jpg diff --git a/75576-h/images/image003.jpg b/75576-h/images/image003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b72068b --- /dev/null +++ b/75576-h/images/image003.jpg diff --git a/75576-h/images/image004.jpg b/75576-h/images/image004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bc10cd6 --- /dev/null +++ b/75576-h/images/image004.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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