CHAPTER XVII
A SUNDAY DRIVE
Mrs. Cecil was extremely restless. She had been so ever since her visitto Kidder & Kidder. She would roam from room to room of her great house,staying long in none, finding fault with everybody and everything, in amanner most unusual. For though she was sharp of speech, at times, thetimes were fortunately at intervals, not incessant; but now she hadaltered and her dependents felt it to be for the worse.
"I declar' my soul, Ephraim, looks lak ouah Miss Betty done got somepin'on her min', de way she ca'y on erbout nottin er tall. Jus' cayse cook,she done put sallyratus in dem biscuits, stidder raisin' 'em yeas' cakeway, she done 'most flung 'em offen de table. All de time fussin' widsome us boys an' girls, erbout some fault er nother; an' I lay out it'sher own min' is all corrodin' wid wickedness. What's yo' 'pinion now,Ephraim, boy?"
The old colored man pushed away his plate and scratched his white wool.He was loyalty itself to his Miss Betty, but in his heart he agreed withDinah that the house of Calvert had fallen upon uncomfortable times.Fortunately, he was saved the trouble of a reply, by the sharp ringingof the stable bell.
"What now!" cried Dinah, hurrying away.
Dinner had been served as usual. As usual Mrs. Cecil had attendedservice at old St. Paul's, but had felt herself defrauded because therector had invited a stranger to occupy the pulpit: "when he knows aswell as I do that this is my last Sunday in Baltimore, before theautumn, and should have paid me the respect of preaching himself," shehad confided to her next-pew neighbor. Whereupon that other old memberhad felt herself also aggrieved, and had left the edifice for hercarriage in a most unchristian state of mind. As usual, the onechurch-going and the stately dinner over, the household had settled intoa Sunday somnolence. Ephraim had a comfortable lounge in thecarriage-house loft and was ready for his afternoon nap. Cook wasalready asleep, in her kitchen rocker; and having finished her owngrumble, Dinah was about to follow the universal custom, and seek reposein the little waiting-room beyond her mistress's boudoir, while thatlady enjoyed the same within. For that stable bell to ring at thisunwonted hour was enough to startle both old servants, and to send Dinahspeeding to answer it.
"Bless yo' heart, Miss Betty, did you-all done ring dat bell? Or did datMethusalem done it, fo' mischievousness?"
"I rang it, Dinah. Tell Ephraim to harness his horses. I'm going out fora drive."
Dinah delayed to obey. Drive on Sunday? Such a thing was unheard of,except on the rare occasion of some intimate friend being desperatelyill. Instantly the maid's thought ran over the list of her mistress'sintimates, but could find none who was ailing, or hardly one who wasstill in town.
"Lawd, honey, Miss Betty, who-all's sick?"
"Nobody, you foolish girl. Can't I stir off these grounds unless somebodyis ill? I'm going to drive. I've no need to tell you, you've no right toask me--but one must humor imbecility! _I--am--going--to--drive!_ I--I'mnot sleeping as well as usual, and I need the air. Now, get my things, anddon't stare."
"Yas'm. Co'se. Yas'm. But year me, Miss Betty Somerset, if yo' po' mawwas er libin' you-all wouldn't get to go no ridin' on a Sunday ebenin',jus' if yo' didn' know no diff'rent. Lak dem po' no-'count folks whatdoan' b'long to good famblies. You-all may go, whuther er no, cayse yo'does most inginerally take yo' own way. But I owes it to yo' maw torecommind you-all o' yo' plain, Christian duty."
With that Dinah felt she had relieved herself of all obligation eitherto duty or tradition, and proceeded with great dignity to bring out herlady's handsome wrap and hat: while down deep in that old gentlewoman'sbreast fluttered a feeling of actual guilt. It was a lifelong habit shewas about to break; a habit that had been the law of her parents in thedays of her youth. When one was a privileged person of leisure, whocould take her outings on any week-day, she should pay strictest honorto the Sabbath.
However, Miss Betty had made up her mind to go and Miss Betty went. Notonly thus endangering her own soul but those of Dinah and Ephraim aswell; and once well out of city limits and the possible observation offriends, the affair began to have for all three the sweet flavor ofstolen fruit.
"It's delightful. It's such a perfect day. 'Twould be more sinful towaste it indoors, asleep, than to be out here on the highway, passingthrough such loveliness. We'll--_We'll come again_, some other Sunday,Dinah," observed Mrs. Cecil, when they had already traveled some fewmiles.
But it was Dinah's hour for sleep, and having been prevented fromindulging herself at home in a proper place and condition, she saw noreason why she shouldn't nod here and now. The carriage was full ascomfortable as her own easy-chair, and she had been ordered to ride, notto stay awake.
So, finding her remarks unheeded, Mrs. Cecil set herself to studying thelandscape; and she found this so soothing to her tired nerves that whenthe coachman asked if he should turn about, she indignantly answered:
"No. Time for that when I give the order. It's my carriage, as I oftenhave to remind you, Ephraim."
"Yas'm. Dat's so, Miss Betty. But dese yere hosses, dey ain' much usento trabelin' so fur, cos' erspecially not inginerally on a _Sunday_."
"Do them good, boy, do them good. They're so fat they can hardly trot arod before they're winded. When we get into the country, and they haveto climb up and down those hills of the highlands, they'll lose some oftheir bulk. They're a sight now. I'm fairly ashamed of them. Touch themup, boy, touch them up. See if they can travel at all. They had a gooddeal of spirit when I bought them, but you'd ruin any team you shookthe reins over, Ephraim. Touch them up!"
Ephraim groaned, but obeyed; and, for a brief distance, the bays didtrot fairly well, as if there had come to their equine minds a memory ofthat past when they had been young and frisky. Then they settled downagain to their ordinary jog, quite unlike their mistress's mood, whichgrew more and more excited and gay the longer she trespassed upon herold-time habits.
Nobody, who loved nature at all, could resist the influence of thatgolden summer afternoon--"evening" as southerners call it. To Mrs. Cecilas to little Dorothy, hours before, came the sweet, suggestive odor ofhoneysuckle; that brought back old memories, touched to tenderness herheart, and to an undefinable longing for something and somebody on whichto expend all that stored-up affection.
"Tu'n yet, Miss Betty? Dat off hoss done gettin' badly breathed,"suggested Ephraim, rudely breaking in upon Mrs. Cecil's reflections.
"Oh, you tiresome boy! One-half mile more, then turn if you will andmust. For me--I haven't enjoyed myself nor felt so at peace in--inseveral days. Not since that wretched plumber came to Bellevieu andstirred me all up with his--gossip. I could drive on forever! but, ofcourse, I'm human, and I'll remember you, Ephraim, as well as my poor,abused horses! One mile--did I say a half? Well, drive on, anyway."
It was at the very turn of the road that she saw them.
A long, lanky lad, far worse winded than her fat bays, skulking alongbehind the honeysuckle hedge-rows, as if in hiding from somebody. Asthey approached each other--she in her roomy carriage, he on his bruisedand aching feet--she saw that he was almost spent; that he carried agirl on his back; and that the desperation of fear was on both theiryoung faces. Then looking forward along her side of the hedge, down theroad that stretched so smooth and even, she saw two men on horseback.They were riding swiftly, and now and then one would rise in hisstirrups and peer over the hedge, as if to keep in sight the strugglingchildren, then settle back again into that easy lope that was certain ofspeedy victory.
Mrs. Cecil's nerves tingled with a new--an old--sensation. In the daysof her girlhood she had followed the hounds over many a well-contestedfield. Behold here again was a fox-hunt--with two human children forfoxes! Whatever they might have done, how deserved re-capture, shedidn't pause to inquire. All her old sporting blood rose in her, but--onthe side of the foxes!
"Drive, drive, Ephraim, drive! Kill the horses--save those children!"
Ephraim had once been young, too, and he caught his lady's spirit with areadiness that delighted her. I
n a moment the carriage was abreast thefleeing children on that further side the hedge, and Mrs. Cecil's voicewas excitedly calling:
"Come through! Come through the hedge! We'll befriend you!"
It had been a weary, weary race. Although her foot had been so carefullybandaged by Daniel St. John, it was not fit to be used and Dorothy'ssuffering could not be told in words. Jim had done his best. He hadcomforted, encouraged, carried her; at times, incessantly, but with anow fast-dying hope that they could succeed in evading these pursuers,so relentlessly intent upon their capture.
"It's the money, Dorothy, they want. They mustn't get it. That's yourfolkses'--do try--you _must_ keep on! I'll--they shan't--Oh, pshaw!"
Wheels again! again added to that thump, thump, thump of steel-shodhoofs along the hard road! and the youth felt that the race wasover--himself beaten.
Then he peered through a break in the honeysuckle and saw a wonderfulold lady with snow-white hair and a beautiful face, standing up in afiner vehicle than he had known could be constructed, and eagerlybeckoning him to: "Come! Come!"
He stood still, panting for breath, and Dorothy lifted her face whichshe had hidden on his shoulder and--what was that the child was calling?
"Mrs. Cecil! Mrs. Cecil! Don't you know me? John Chester's little girl?'Johnnie'--postman 'Johnnie'--you know him--take me home!"
The two horsemen came riding up and reined in shortly. There wasbewilderment on their faces and disappointment in their hearts; forbehold! here were five hundred dollars being swept out of their verygrasp by a wealthy old woman who didn't need a cent!
And what was that happy old creature answering to the fugitive's appealbut an equally joyful:
"Dorothy C.! You poor lost darling--Dorothy C.! Thank God you're found!Thank Him I took this ride this day!"
Another moment and not only Dorothy but poor Jim Barlow, mud-stained,unkempt, as awkward a lad as ever lived and as humble, was riding towardBaltimore city in state, on a velvet-covered cushion beside one of itsmost aristocratic dames!
This was a turn in affairs, indeed; and the discomfited horsemen, whohad felt a goodly sum already within their pockets, followed theequipage into town to learn the outcome of the matter.
Dorothy was on Mrs. Cecil's own lap; who minded nothing of the soiledlittle garments but held the child close with a pitying maternity,pathetic in so old and childless a woman.
But, oddly enough, she permitted no talk or explanation. There would betime enough for that when the safe shelter of Bellevieu was reached andthere were no following interlopers to overhear. Even Dinah could onlysit and stare, wondering if her beloved "honey" had suddenly lost herwits; but Ephraim comprehended that his mistress now meant it when sheurged "Speed! speed!" and put his fat bays to a run such as they had nottaken since their earliest youth.
Through the eagle-gateway, into the beautiful grounds, around to thatbroad piazza where Dorothy had made disastrous acquaintance with the twoGreat Danes, and on quite into the house. But there Jim would haveretreated, and even Dorothy looked and wondered: saying, as she wasgently taken in old Dinah's arms and laid upon the mistress's ownlounge:
"Thank you, but I won't lie down here, if you please. I love you so muchfor bringing me back, but home--home's just around the corner, and Ican't wait! Jim and I will go now--please--and thank you! thank you!"
Yet now, back in her own home, it was a very calm and courteous oldgentlewoman--no longer an impulsive one--who answered:
"For the present, Dorothy C., you will have to be content withBellevieu. John Chester and his wife have gone to the country. To afar-away state, and to a little property she owns. Fortunately, I amgoing to that same place very soon and will take you to them. I am sorryfor your disappointment, but you are safe with me till then."
CHAPTER XVIII
CONCLUSION
Mr. Kidder, of Kidder & Kidder, had by request waited upon the lady ofBellevieu. He was prepared to explain some uncertain matters to her andhad delayed his own removal to his country place for that purpose. Theheat which had made Baltimore so uncomfortable had, for the time being,passed; and there was now blowing through the big east-parlor, a breeze,redolent of the perfumes of sweet brier and lily-of-the-valley;old-fashioned flowers which grew in rank luxuriance outside the widebay-window.
Presently there entered the mistress of the mansion, looking almostyouthful in a white gown and with a calm serenity upon her handsomefeatures. She walked with that graceful, undulating movement--a sort ofquiet gliding--which had been the most approved mode of her girlhood,and the mere sight of that was restful to the old attorney, who detestedthe modern, jerky carriage of most maidens.
Dorothy attended her hostess and she, too, was in white. Indeed Mrs.Cecil considered that to be the only suitable home-wear for either maidor matron, after the spring days came; and looking critically upon thepair, the old lawyer fancied he saw a faint resemblance.
Each had large brown and most expressive eyes; each had a hand and foot,fit subject for feminine pride, and each bore herself with the same airof composed self-sufficiency. Well, it was a fine experiment his clientwas trying; he could but hope it would not end in disappointment.
She seemed to know his thoughts without his expressing them; and as shesat down, she bade Dorothy lay aside her cane and sit beside her. Theinjured foot had received the best of medical treatment since thechild's arrival at Bellevieu and was now almost well, though somesupport had still to be used as a safeguard against strain.
"This is the child, Mr. Kidder. I think she has intelligence. A fineintelligence," began the lady, as if Dorothy had not ears to hear. Thenfeeling the girl's eyes raised inquiringly, added rather hastily: "It'son account of 'Johnnie,' you understand, Mr. Kidder. He was one of themost faithful persons I ever knew. That was why he was selected. Why Iam going to take his little Dorothy C. back to him as fast asto-morrow's train will carry us. Have you learned anything?"
"Yes, Madam. I came prepared--but----" He paused again and glanced atthe girl, whom her hostess promptly sent away. Then he proceeded:
"It is the same man I suspected in the beginning. He was a clerk in myoffice some years ago, at the time, indeed, when I first saw your ward.He listened at a keyhole and heard all arrangements made, but--did notsee who was closeted with me and never learned your identity untilrecently. That is why you have escaped blackmail so long; and he is theauthor of the letters you sent me--unopened. He had his eye upon DorothyC. for years, but could use her to no advantage till he traced--I don'tyet know how, and it doesn't matter--the connection between yourself andthe monthly letters. He has been in scrapes innumerable. I dischargedhim almost immediately after I hired him, and he has owed me a grudgeever since. But--he'll trouble Baltimore people no more. If he recoversfrom the dangerous illness he is suffering now he will be offered thechoice of exile from the state or a residence in the prison. By the way,isn't it a case of poetic justice, that he should be thus innocentlypunished by the child he stole?"
"It is, indeed. As to the boy, James. 'Jim,' Dorothy calls him. He seemsto be without friends, a fine, uncouth, most manly fellow, with anoverpowering ambition 'to know things'! To see him look at a book, as ifhe adored it but dared not touch it, is enough--to make me long to throwit at him, almost! He is to be tested. I want to go slow with him. Somany of my proteges have disappointed me. But, if he's worth it, I wantto help him make a man of himself."
"The right word. Just the right, exact word, Madam. 'Help _him_ to makea man of himself.' Because if he doesn't take a hand in the businesshimself, all the extraneous help in the world will be useless. Well,then I think we understand each other. I have all your latest advices inmy safe, with duplicate copies in that of my son.
"You leave to-morrow? From Union Station? I wish you, Madam, a safejourney, a pleasant summer, and an early return. Good-morning."
On the very evening of Dorothy's arrival at Bellevieu, now some dayspast, she had begged so to "go home," and so failed to comprehend howher parents could have left
it without her, that Mrs. Cecil sent for theplumber and his wife to come to her and to bring Mabel with them.
"Why, husband! I fair believe the world must be comin' to an end!Dorothy found, alive, and that rich woman the one to find her! Go!Course we'll go--right off."
Mr. Bruce was just as eager to pay the visit as his wife, but he pridedhimself on being a "free-born American" citizen and resented beingordered to the mansion, "on a Sunday just as if it were a work-day. Ifthe lady has business with us, it's her place to come to Brown Street,herself."
"Fiddle-de-diddle-de-dee! Since when have we got so top-lofty?" demandedhis better half with a laugh. "On with your best duds, man alive, andwe'll be off! Why, I--I myself am all of a flutter, I can't wait! Dohurry an' step 'round to 77 an' get Mabel. She's been to supper with heraunt, an' Jane'll be wild to hear the news, too. Tell everybody you seeon the block--Dorothy C. is found! Dorothy C. is found! An' whilstyou're after Mabel, I'll just whisk Dorothy's clothes, 'at her motherleft with me for her, into a satchel an' take 'em along. Stands toreason that folks wicked enough to steal a child wouldn't be decentenough to give her a change of clothing; and if she's wore one set eversence she's been gone--My! I reckon Martha Chester'd fair squirm--justto think of it!"
Now, as has been stated, in his heart the honest plumber was fully aseager to see Dorothy C., as his wife was, and long before she hadfinished speaking he was on his way to number 77. It was such a lovelyevening that all his neighbors were sitting out upon their doorsteps, intrue Baltimore fashion, so it was easy as delightful to spread thetidings; and never, never, had the one-hundred-block of cleanly BrownStreet risen in such an uproar. An uproar of joy that was almosthilarious; and all uninvited, everybody who had ever known Dorothy C.set off for Bellevieu, so that even before the Bruce-Jones party hadarrived the lovely grounds were full to overflowing and the aristocraticsilence of the place was broken by cries of:
"Dorothy! Dorothy Chester! Show us little Dorothy, and we'll believe ourears. Seeing is believing--Show us little Dorothy!"
These, and similar, outcries bombarded the hearing of Mrs. Cecil and,for a moment, frightened her. Glancing out of the window she beheld thethrong and called to Ephraim:
"Boy! Telephone--the police! It's a riot of some sort! We're beingmobbed!"
But Dinah knew better. She didn't yet understand why her mistress shouldbother with a couple of runaway young folks, but since she had done soit was her own part to share in that bother. So she promptly lifted thegirl in her strong arms and carried her out to the broad piazza, socrowded with people in Sunday attire, and quietly explained towhomsoever would listen:
"Heah she is! Yas'm. Dis yere's de pos'man's li'l gal what's gone awaywid de misery in his laigs. Yas'm. It sho'ly am. An' my Miss Betty,she's done foun' out how where he's gone at is right erjinin' ouah ownprop'ty o' Deerhurst-on-de-Heights, where we-all's gwine in a rightsmart li'l while. Won't nottin' more bad happen dis li'l one, now myMiss Betty done got de care ob her. Yas'm, ladies an' gemplemen; an' so,bein's it Sunday, an' my folks mos' tuckered out, if you-all'd be soperlite as to go back to yo' housen an' done leab us res', we-all donebe much obleeged. Yas'm. Good-bye."
Dinah's good-natured speech, added to the one glimpse of the rescuedchild, acted more powerfully than the police whom her mistress wouldhave summoned; and soon the crowd drifted away, pausing only here andthere to admire the beautiful grounds which, hitherto, most of thesevisitors had seen only from outside the gates.
But the Bruce family remained; and oh! the pride and importance whichattached to them, thus distinguished! Or of that glad reunion with theseold friends and neighbors, when Dorothy was once more in their arms, whocould fitly tell? Then while Mabel and her restored playmate chatteredof all that had happened to either since their parting, Mrs. Cecil drewthe plumber aside and consulted him upon the very prosaic matter ofclothes--clothes for now ill-clad Jim Barlow.
"I've decided to take him with us to New York State when we go, in avery few days. I shall employ him as a gardener on my property there,but he isn't fit to travel--as he's fixed now. Will you, at regularwages for your time, take him down town to-morrow morning and fit himout with suitable clothing, plain and serviceable but ample in quantity,and bring the bill to me? I'd rather you'd not let him out of yoursight, for now that Dorothy is safe, the boy has ridiculous notionsabout his 'duty' to that dreadful old truck-farming woman who has lethim work for her during several years at--nothing a year! And anybodywho's so saturated with 'duty,' is just the man I want at Deerhurst, behe old or young."
To which the plumber answered:
"Indeed, Mrs. Cecil, I'm a proud man to be selected for the job and asto pay for my time--just you settle with me when I ask you for that.Pay? For such a neighborly turn? Well, I guess not. Not till I'm a gooddeal poorer than I am now. And if there's anything needed for DorothyC., my wife'll tend to that, too, and be proud."
So with that matter settled, these good friends of the rescued childrendeparted to their home and to what sleep they might find after so muchdelightful excitement.
Next day, too, because the doctor called in said that Dorothy mustattempt no more walking until the end of the week, Mrs. Cecil had a ponycart sent for, and Ephraim with Dinah took the child upon a round ofcalls to all whom she had ever known in that friendly neighborhood.Mabel was invited to accompany her, and did so--the proudest littlemaiden in Baltimore. They even went to their school, and Miss Georgialeft her class for full five minutes to go out and congratulate her latepupil upon this happy turn of affairs. But at number 77 Dorothy wouldnot stop; would not even look. She felt she could not bear its changedcondition, for underneath all this present joy her heart ached withlonging for those beloved ones who had made that little house a home.
Also, now that it was drawing certainly near, it seemed as if the day oftheir reunion would never come; and when some time before, old Ephraimwas sent on ahead with the horses and carriages, and the great heap ofluggage which his lady found necessary to this annual removal, the childpleaded piteously to go with him.
"No, my dear, not yet. Two days more and you shall. You may count thehours. I sometimes think that helps time to pass, when one is impatient.They've been telegraphed to, have known all about you ever since Sundaynight. They'll have time to make ready for you--and that's all. But,Brown Eyes, a 'penny for your thoughts!' What are they, pray, to makeyou look so serious?"
"I was thinking you're like a fairy godmother. You seem so able to doeverything you want for everybody. I was wondering, too, what makes youso kind to--to me, after that day when I was saucy to you."
It came to the lady's mind to answer: "Darling, who could be aught butkind to you!" but flattery was not one of her failings and she had begunto fear that all the attention of these past days was turning hercharge's head. So she merely suggested:
"I suppose I might be doing it for 'Johnnie.' I am very fond of him."
Thus Dorothy's vanity received a possibly needful snub; for a girl whowas well treated because of her father couldn't be so much of a heroineafter all!
The railway journey from Baltimore to New York was like a passagethrough fairyland to Dorothy C. and the farm-boy Jim. The wonders oftheir luxurious parlor-car surroundings kept them almost speechless withdelight; but when at the latter great city they embarked upon a Hudsonriver steamer and they were free to roam about the palatial vessel,their tongues were loosened. Thereafter they talked so fast and so muchthat they hardly realized what was happening as Dinah called them tolisten and obey the boat-officer's command:
"All ashore what's goin'! Aft' gangway fo' Cornwall!A-L-L--A-S-H-O-O-R-E!"
Over the gangplank, into the midst of a waiting crowd, and there wasEphraim with the carriage and the bays; and into the roomy vehiclebundled everybody, glad to be so near the end of that famous journey,and Dorothy quite unable to keep still for two consecutive moments.
"Up, up, up! How high we are going! Straight into the skies it seems!"cried the girl to Jim Barlow, whom nobody who h
ad known him on thetruck-farm would have recognized as the same lad, so neat and trim henow appeared.
But he had no words to answer. The wonderful upland country throughwhich their course lay impressed him to silence, and the strength ofthose everlasting hills entered his ambitious soul--making him believethat to him who dared all high achievements were possible.
"Will--we never--_never_ get there?" almost gasped Dorothy, in thebreathless eagerness of these last few moments of separation from herloved ones. But Mrs. Cecil answered:
"Yes, my child. Round this turn of the road and behold! we are arrived!See, that big place yonder whose gates stand wide open is Deerhurst, myhome, to which I hope you will often come. And, look this way--there isSkyrie! The little stone cottage on a rock, half-hidden in vines, emptyfor years, and now--Who is that upon its threshold? That man in thewheeled chair, risking his neck to hasten your meeting? Who that daintylittle woman flying down the path to clasp you in her arms? Ah! DorothyC.! Father and mother, indeed, they have proved to you and glad am I torestore you to them, safe and sound!"
Happy, happy Dorothy! At last, at last she was in the arms whose carehad sheltered her through all her life; and there, for the time being,we must leave her. Of her life at Skyrie, of its haps and mishaps, ofthe mystery which still surrounded her birth and parentage, another bookmust tell.
Or how beautiful Mrs. Cecil, gay and satisfied as that veritable fairygodmother to which Dorothy had likened her, drove briskly home toDeerhurst and its accustomed stateliness, with humble Jim Barlow toograteful for speech, already beginning his new and richer life.
All these things and more belong with Dorothy Chester at Skyrie, and ofthem you shall hear by and by. Till then we leave her, well content.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Obvious printer and typographical errors have been corrected withoutcomment. In addition to obvious errors, the following changes have beenmade:
Page 218: "t'was" was changed to "'twas" in the phrase, "... t'was to find out dat."
Page 251: "need less" was changed to "needless" in the phrase, "... scuffin' 'em out, needless."
Page 297: "the" was added to the phrase, "Glancing out of the window...."
With the exception of the above corrections, the author's originalspelling, punctuation, use of grammar, etc., is retained as it appearsin the original publication.
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