[figure description] Page 289.[end figure description]

At the delightful country seat of Arthur Carrollton, Madam
Conway had passed many pleasant days, and was fully
intending to while away several more, when an unexpected
summons from his father made it necessary for the young
man to go immediately to London, and as an American
steamer was about to leave the port of Liverpool, Madam
Conway determined to start for home at once. Accordingly
she wrote for Anna Jeffrey, whom she had promised to take
with her, to meet her in Liverpool, and a few days previous
to the arrival of George Douglas and Henry Warner at
Hillsdale, the two ladies embarked with an endless variety
of luggage, to say nothing of Miss Anna's guitar-case, bird-cage
and favorite lap-dog “Lottie.”

Once fairly on the sea, Madam Conway became exceedingly
impatient and disagreeable, complaining both of fare
and speed, and at length came on deck one morning with
the firm belief that something dreadful had happened to
Maggie! She was dangerously sick, she knew, for never
but once before had she been visited with a like presentiment,
and that was just before her daughter died. Then it
came to her just as this had done, in her sleep, and very
nervously the lady paced the vessel's deck, counting the
days as they passed, and almost weeping for joy when told

[figure description] Page 290.[end figure description]

Boston was in sight. Immediately after landing, she made
inquiries as to when the next train passing Hillsdale station
would leave the city, and though it was midnight, she
resolved at all hazards to go on, for if Maggie were really
ill, there was no time to be lost!

Accordingly, when at four o'clock A.M. Maggie, who
was partially awake, heard in the distance the shrill scream
of the engine, as the night express thundered through the
town, she little dreamed of the boxes, bundles, trunks and
bags, which lined the platform of Hillsdale station, nor yet
of the resolute woman in brown, who persevered until a rude
one horse wagon was found in which to transport herself and
her baggage to the old stone house. The driver of the vehicle
in which, under ordinary circumstances, Madam Conway
would have scorned to ride, was a long, lean, half-witted
fellow, utterly unfitted for his business. Still, he managed
quite well until they turned into the grassy by-road, and
Madam Conway saw through the darkness the light which
Maggie had inadvertently left within the dining-room!

There was no longer a shadow of uncertainty; “Margaret
was dead,” and the lank Tim was ordered to drive
faster, or the excited woman, perched on one of her travelling
trunks, would be obliged to foot it! A few vigorous
strokes of the whip set the sorrel horse into a canter, and as
the night was dark, and the road wound round among the
trees, it is not at all surprising that Madam Conway, with
her eye still on the beacon light, found herself seated rather
unceremoniously in the midst of a brush heap, her goods and
chattels rolling promiscuously around her, while lying across
a log, her right hand clutching at the bird-cage, and her
left grasping the shaggy hide of Lottie, who yelled most
furiously, was Anna Jeffrey, half blinded with mud, and bitterly
denouncing American drivers and Yankee roads! To

[figure description] Page 291.[end figure description]

gather themselves together was not an easy matter, but the
ten pieces were at last all told, and then, holding up her
skirts, bedraggled with dew, Madam Conway resumed her
seat in the wagon, which was this time driven in safety to
her door. Giving orders for her numerous boxes to be
safely bestowed, she hastened forward and soon stood upon
the threshold.

“Great Heaven!” she exclaimed, starting backward so
suddenly that she trod upon the foot of Lottie, who again
sent forth an outcry, which Anna Jeffrey managed to choke
down. “Is this bedlam or what?” and stepping out upon
the piazza, she looked to see if the blundering driver had
made a mistake. But no, it was the same old grey stone
house she had left some months before; and again pressing
boldly forward, she took the lamp from the side-board, and
commenced to reconnoitre. “My mother's wedding dress,
as I live! and her scarlet broadcloth, too!” she cried, holding
to view the garments which Henry Warner had thrown
upon the arm of the long settee. A turban or cushion,
which she recognized as belonging to her grandmother, next
caught her view, together with the small-clothes of her sire.

“The entire contents of the oaken chest,” she continued, in a
tone far from being calm and cool. “What can have happened!
It's some of that crazy Hagar's work, I know.
I'll have her put in the”—but whatever the evil was
which threatened Hagar Warren, it was not defined by
words, for at that moment the indignant lady caught sight
of an empty bottle, which she instantly recognized as having
held her very oldest, choicest wine. “The Lord help me!”
she cried, “I've been robbed;” and grasping the bottle by
the neck, she leaned up against the banner which she had
not yet descried.

“In the name of wonder, what's this?” she almost

[figure description] Page 292.[end figure description]

screamed, as the full blaze of the lamp fell upon the flag,
revealing the truth at once, and partially stopping her
breath.

Robbery was nothing to insult, and forgetting entirely the
wine, she gasped, “stars and stripes in this house! In the
house of my grandfather, as loyal a subject as King George
ever boasted! What can Margaret be doing to suffer a
thing like this?”

A few steps further on, and Margaret herself might have
been seen peering out into the darkened upper hall, and
listening anxiously to her grandmother's voice. The sound
of the rattling old wagon had aroused her, and curious to
know who was stirring at this early hour, she had cautiously
opened her window, which overlooked the piazza, and to her
great dismay, had recognized her grandmother as she gave
orders concerning her baggage. Flying back to her room,
she awoke her sister, who, springing up in bed, whispered
faintly, “Will she kill us dead, Maggie? Will she kill us
dead?”

“Pshaw! no,” answered Maggie, her own courage rising
with Theo's fears. “She'll have to scold a spell, I suppose,
but I can coax her, I know!”

By this time the old lady was ascending the stairs, and
closing the door, Maggie applied her eye to the key-hole,
listening breathlessly for what might follow. George Douglas
and Henry Warner occupied separate rooms, and their
boots were now standing outside their doors, ready for the
chore boy, Jim, who thus earned a quarter every day.
Stumbling first upon the pair belonging to George Douglas,
the lady took them up, ejaculating, “Boots! boots! Yes,
men's boots, as I'm a living woman! The like was never
seen by me before in this hall. Another pair!” she continued,
as her eye fell on those of Henry Warner. “Another

[figure description] Page 293.[end figure description]

pair, and in the best chamber, too! What will come next?”
And setting down her light, she wiped the drops of perspiration
from her face, at the same time looking around in
some alarm, lest the owners of said boots should come
forth.

Just at that moment Mrs. Jeffrey appeared. Alarmed by
the unusual noise, and fancying the young gentlemen might
be robbing the house, as a farewell performance, she had
donned a calico wrapper, and tying a black silk handkerchief
over her cap, had taken her scissors, the only weapon
of defence she could find, and thus equipped for battle, she
had sallied forth. She was prepared for burglars—nay, she
would not have been disappointed, had she found the
young men busily engaged in removing the ponderous
furniture from their rooms; but the sight of Madam Conway,
at that unseasonable hour, was wholly unexpected,
and in her fright she dropped the lamp which she had lighted
in place of her candle, and which was broken in fragments,
deluging the carpet with oil, and eliciting a fresh
groan from Madam Conway.

“Jeffrey, Jeffrey!” she gasped, “what have you done?”

“Great goodness!” ejaculated Mrs. Jeffrey, remembering
her adventure when once before she left her room in the night.
“I certainly am the most unfortunate of mortals. Catch me
out of bed again, let what will happen;” and turning, she
was about to leave the hall, when Madam Conway, anxious
to know what had been done, called her back, saying rather
indignantly, “I'd like to know whose house I am in?”

“A body would suppose 'twas Miss Margaret's, the way
she's conducted,” answered Mrs. Jeffrey; and Madam Conway
continued, pointing to the boots, “Who have we here?
These are not Margaret's, surely?”

“No, ma'am, they belong to the young men, who have

[figure description] Page 294.[end figure description]

turned the house topsy-turvey, with their tableaux, their
Revolution celebration, their banner, and carousing generally,”
said Mrs. Jeffrey, rather pleased than otherwise at
being the first to tell the news.

“Young men!” repeated Madam Conway, “what young
men? Where did they come from, and why are they here?”

“They are Douglas & Warner,” said Mrs. Jeffrey, “two
as big scapegraces as there are this side of Old Bailey—
that's what they are. They came from Worcester, and if
I've any discernment, they are after your girls, and your
girls are after them.”

“After my girls! After Maggie! It can't be possible!”
grasped Madam Conway, thinking of Arthur Carrollton.

“It's the very truth, though,” returned Mrs. Jeffrey.
“Henry Warner, who, in my opinion, is the worst of the
two, got to chasing Margaret in the woods, as long ago as
last April; she jumped Gritty across the gorge, and he,
like a fool, jumped after, breaking his leg”—

“Pity it hadn't been his neck,” interrupted Madam
Conway, and Mrs. Jeffrey continued, “Of course he was
brought here, and Margaret took care of him. After a
while, his comrade Douglas came out, and of all the carousals
you ever thought of, I reckon they had the worst.
'Twas the 4th of July, and if you'll believe it, they made a
banner, and Maggie planted it herself on the housetop.
They went off next morning; but now they've come again,
and last night the row beat all. I never got a wink of
sleep till after two o'clock.”

Here, entirely out of breath, the old lady paused, and going
to her room, brought out a basin of water and a towel, with
which she tried to wipe off the oil. But Madam Conway
paid little heed to the spoiled carpet, so engrossed was she
with what she had heard.

[figure description] Page 295.[end figure description]

“I'm astonished at Margaret's want of discretion,” said
she, “and I depended so much upon her, too.”

“I always knew you were deceived by her,” said Mrs.
Jeffrey, still bending over the oil; “but it wasn't for me
to say so, for you are blinded towards that girl. She's got
some of the queerest notions, and then she's so high strung.
She won't listen to reason. But I did my country good
service once. I went up in the dead of night to take down
the flag, and I don't regret it either, even if it did pitch me
to the bottom of the stairs, and sprained my ankle.”

“Served you right,” interposed Madam Conway, who,
not at all pleased at hearing Margaret thus censured, now
turned the full force of her wrath upon the poor little governess,
blaming her for having suffered such proceedings.
“What did Margaret and Theo know, young things as they
were? and what was Mrs. Jeffrey there for if not to keep
them circumspect! But instead of doing this, she had undoubtedly
encouraged them in their folly, and then charged
it upon Margaret.”

It was in vain that the greatly distressed and astonished
lady protested her innocence, pleading her sleepless nights
and lame ankle as proofs of having done her duty; Madam
Conway would not listen. “Somebody was of course to
blame,” and as it is a long established rule, that a part of
every teacher's duty is to be responsible for the faults of the
pupils, so Madam Conway now continued to chide Mrs.
Jeffrey as the prime mover of everything, until that lady,
overwhelmed with the sense of injustice done her, left
the oil and retired to her room, saying as she closed the
door, “I was never so injured in all my life—never, to think
that after all my trouble she should charge it to me! It
will break my heart, I know. Where shall I go for comfort
or rest?”

[figure description] Page 296.[end figure description]

This last word was opportune and suggestive. If rest
could not be found in Baxter's Saints' Rest, it was not by her
to be found at all; and sitting down by the window in the
grey dawn of the morning, she strove to draw comfort from
the words of the good divine, but in vain. It had never
failed her before; but never before had she been so deeply
injured, and closing the volume at last, she paced the floor in
a very perturbed state of mind.

Meantime, Madam Conway had sought her granddaughter's
chamber, where Theo in her fright had taken refuge under
the bed, while Maggie feigned a deep, sound sleep. A few
vigorous shakes, however, aroused her, when greatly to the
amazement of her grandmother, she burst into a merry laugh,
and winding her arms around the highly scandalized lady's
neck, said, “Forgive me, grandma, I've been awake ever since
you came home. I did not mean to leave the dining-room
in such disorder, but I was so tired, and we had such fun—
hear me out,” she continued, laying her hand over the mouth
of her grandmother, who attempted to speak; “Mrs. Jeffrey
told you how Mr. Warner broke his leg, and was brought
here. He is a real nice young man, and so is Mr. Douglas,
who came out to see him. They are partners in the firm of
Douglas & Co. Worcester.”

“Henry Warner is nothing but the Co. though, Mr.
Douglas owns the store, and is worth two hundred thousand
dollars!” cried a smothered voice from under the bed; and
Theo emerged into view, with a feather or two ornamenting
her hair, and herself looking a little uneasy and frightened.

The 200,000 dollars produced a magical effect upon the
old lady, exonerating George Douglas at once from all
blame. But towards Henry Warner she was not thus
lenient; for, cowardlike, Theo charged him with having

[figure description] Page 297.[end figure description]

suggested everything, even to the cutting up of the red coat
for a banner!

“What!” fairly screamed Madam Conway, who in her
hasty glance at the flag, had not observed the material,
“not taken my grandfather's coat for a banner!”

“Yes, he did,” said Theo, “and Maggie cut up your blue
satin bodice for stars, and took one of your fine linen sheets
for the foundation.”

“The wretch!” exclaimed Madam Conway, stamping her
foot in her wrath, and thinking only of Henry Warner.
“I'll turn him from my door instantly. My blue satin bodice,
indeed!”

“'Twas I, grandma—'twas I,” interrupted Maggie, looking
reproachfully at Theo. “'Twas I, who cut up the bodice.
I, who brought down the scarlet coat.”

“And I didn't do a thing but look on,” said Theo. “I
knew you'd be angry, and I tried to make Maggie behave,
but she wouldn't.”

“I don't know as it is anything to you what Maggie does,
and I think it would look quite as well in you, to take part
of the blame yourself, instead of putting it all upon your
sister,” was Madam Conway's reply; and feeling almost as
deeply injured as Mrs. Jeffrey herself, Theo began to cry,
while, Maggie with a few masterly strokes, succeeded in so
far appeasing the anger of her grandmother, that the good
lady consented for the young gentlemen to stay to breakfast,
saying, though, that “they should decamp immediately
after, and never darken her doors again.”

“But Mr. Douglas is rich,” sobbed Theo from behind her
pocket handkerchief, “immensely rich and of a very aristocratic
family, I'm sure, else where did he get his money?”

This remark was timely, and when, fifteen minutes later,
Madam Conway was presented to the gentlemen in the hall,

[figure description] Page 298.[end figure description]

her manner was far more gracious towards George Douglas
than it was towards Henry Warner, to whom she merely
nodded, deigning no answer whatever to his polite apology
for having made himself so much at home in her house.
The expression of his mouth was as usual against him, and
fancying he intended adding insult to injury by laughing in
her face, she coolly turned her back upon him ere he had
finished speaking, and walked down stairs, leaving him to
wind up his speech with “an old she dragon!”

By this time both the sun and the servants had arisen,
the former shining into the disorderly dining-room, and disclosing
to the latter the weary jaded Anna, who, while
Madam Conway was exploring the house, had thrown herself
upon the lounge, and had fallen asleep.

“Who is she, and where did she come from?” was anxiously
inquired, and they were about going in quest of Margaret,
when their mistress appeared suddenly in their midst,
and their noisy demonstrations of joyful surprise awoke the
sleeping girl, who, rubbing her red eyelids, asked for her
aunt, and why she did not come to meet her.

“She has been a little excited, and forgot you, perhaps,”
answered Madam Conway, at the same time bidding one
of the servants to show the young lady to Mrs. Jeffrey's
room.

The good lady had recovered her composure somewhat,
and was just wondering why her niece did not come with
Madam Conway as had been arranged, when Anna appeared,
and in her delight at once more beholding a child of her
only sister, and her husband's brother, she forgot in a measure
how injured she had felt. Ere long the breakfast bell
rang; but Anna declared herself too weary to go down,
and as Mrs. Jeffrey felt that she could not yet meet Madam
Conway face to face, they both remained in their room,

[figure description] Page 299.[end figure description]

Anna again falling away to sleep, while her aunt grown more
calm, sought, and this time found, comfort in her favorite
volume. Very cool, indeed, was that breakfast, partaken in
almost unbroken silence below. The toast was cold, the
steak was cold, the coffee was cold, and frosty as an icicle
was the lady who sat where the merry Maggie had heretofore
presided. Scarcely a word was spoken by any one;
but in the laughing eyes of Maggie there was a world of fun,
to which the mischievous mouth of Henry Warner responded,
by a curl exceedingly annoying to his stately hostess, who,
in passing him his coffee, turned her head in another direction
lest she should be too civil!

Breakfast being over, George Douglas, who began to
understand Madam Conway tolerably well, asked of her a
private interview, which was granted, when he conciliated
her first by apologizing for anything ungentlemanly he might
have done in her house, and startled her next by asking for
Theo, as his wife.

“You can,” said he, “easily ascertain my character and
standing in Worcester, where for the last ten years I have
been known first as clerk, then as junior partner, and finally
as proprietor of the large establishment which I now conduct.”

Madam Conway was at first too much astonished to speak.
Had it been Maggie for whom he asked, the matter would
have been decided at once, for Maggie was her pet, her pride,
the intended bride of Arthur Carrollton; but Theo was a
different creature altogether, and though the Conway blood
flowing in her veins entitled her to much consideration, she
was neither showy nor brilliant, and if she could marry
200,000 dollars, even though it were American coin, she
would perhaps be doing quite as well as could be expected!
So Madam Conway replied at last, that “she would

[figure description] Page 300.[end figure description]

consider the matter, and if she found that Theo's feelings were
fully enlisted, she would perhaps return a favorable answer.
“I know the firm of Douglas & Co. by reputation,” said she,
“and I know it to be a wealthy firm; but with me, family is
quite as important as money.”

“My family, madam, are certainly respectable,” interrupted
George Douglas, a deep flush overspreading his face.

He was indignant at her presuming to question his
respectability, Madam Conway thought, and so she hastened
to appease him, by saying, “Certainly, I have no doubt of
it. There are marks by which I can always tell.”

George Douglas bowed low to the far-seeing lady, while a
train of thought, not altogether complimentary to her discernment
in this case, passed through his mind.

Not thus lenient would Madam Conway have been towards
Henry Warner, had he presumed to ask her that
morning for Maggie, but he knew better than to broach the
subject then. “He would write to her,” he said, immediately
after his return to Worcester, and in the meantime,
Maggie, if she saw proper, was to prepare her grandmother
for it by herself announcing the engagement. This, and
much more he said to Maggie, as they sat together in the
library, so much absorbed in each other as not to observe
the approach of Madam Conway, who entered the door just
in time to see Henry Warner with his arm around Maggie's
waist. She was a woman of bitter prejudices, and had conceived
a violent dislike for Henry, not only on account of
the stars and stripes, but because she read to a certain
extent the true state of affairs. Her suspicions were now
confirmed, and rapidly crossing the floor, she confronted
him, saying, “let my grand-daughter alone, young man, both
now, and forever.”

Something of Hagar's fiery spirit flashed from Maggie's

[figure description] Page 301.[end figure description]

dark eyes, but forcing down her anger, she answered half
earnestly, half playfully, “I am nearly old enough, grandma,
to decide that matter for myself.”

A fierce expression of scorn passed over Madam Conway's
face, and harsh words might have ensued had not the carriage
at that moment been announced. Wringing Maggie's
hand, Henry arose and left the room, followed by the indignant
lady, who would willingly have suffered him to walk,
but thinking 200,000 dollars quite too much money to go
on foot, she had ordered her carriage, and both the senior
and junior partner of Douglas & Co. were ere long riding a
second time away from the old house by the mill.

p594-303

Previous section

Next section