Читать книгу Victor's Triumph - Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth - Страница 21

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When Emma Cavendish turned back into the house she went up into the old lady's room with the intention of breaking to her the news of Katherine Fanning's widowhood and destitution, and of her own desire to invite her to come and live at Blue Cliffs.

She found Mrs. Cavendish just finishing her nice breakfast with Aunt Moll in attendance upon her.

"Here, take away the service now," said the old lady, putting down her empty coffee-cup. "And now, Emma, I am very glad you have come. I feel quite low about parting with Mary. What an angel she is!"

"Cheer up, grandma! We shall have another addition to our family circle soon," said Emma, pleasantly.

"Who is coming, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Cavendish, with all the curiosity of a recluse.

"Oh, another lady!" slowly answered Miss Cavendish, to give Aunt Moll time to get out of the room with her breakfast tray.

And when the old woman had shut the door behind her, Emma said:

"Dear grandma, you will be very much surprised to hear who it is that is coming."

And when Mrs. Cavendish looked up surprised indeed, as well as somewhat alarmed, Emma began and told her of the letter she had received from Mrs. Fanning; of her widowhood and destitution, and of her recent arrival in New York.

"All this is very distressing, my dear Emma, but you see in it only the natural consequences of a low marriage," said the old aristocrat.

"But the marriage is broken by death, dear grandma, and the error is atoned for by much suffering," said Emma, gently.

"Well, my dear, what does the poor woman want us to do?" inquired Mrs. Cavendish.

"She asks nothing, grandma. She simply writes to me, her sister's child—"

"Her half-sister's child!" haughtily interrupted the old lady.

"It is the same thing, grandma. Her half-sister's child, and her only living relative—"

"Her only living relative?" again interrupted the old lady. "Where is her own misguided daughter?"

"Supposed to be dead, dear grandma. Certainly dead to her," said Emma, sadly.

"Well, go on, child; go on."

"She writes to me, I say, and tells me of her situation—widowed, childless, homeless and utterly destitute in a strange city; but she asks nothing—suggests nothing."

"Well, and what would you do—you, her only living relative?" inquired the ancient dame in a tone approaching sarcasm.

"I would restore to her all that she has lost, if I could. I would give her back husband, daughter, home and competence," said Emma.

"But you can't do it any more than you can give her back her lost caste," interrupted the old lady.

Emma felt discouraged but did not yield her point.

"No, dear grandma," she answered, sorrowfully, "I can not give her back her husband, her child, or her wealth; but I can give my mother's suffering sister a home and a friend."

Madam Cavendish lowered her gold-rimmed spectacles from her cap frills to her eyes, placed her lace-mittened hands on the arms of her chair and looked straight and steadily into the face of her granddaughter.

It was extremely disheartening, and Emma dropped her eyes before that severe gaze and bowed her head meekly.

But Emma, though she was the young girl, was in the right; and Madam Cavendish, though she was an ancient and venerable dame, was in the wrong.

Emma knew this quite well, and in the argument that ensued she lovingly, respectfully, yet unflinchingly, maintained her point.

At length Madam Cavendish yielded, saying, scornfully: "Well, my dear, it is more your affair than mine. Invite her here if you will. I wash my hands of it. Only don't ask me to be intimate with the inn-keeper's widow; for I won't. And that's all about it."

"My dear grandma, you shall never see or hear of her, if you do not like to do so. You seldom leave your two rooms. And she shall never enter either unless you send for her," answered Emma.

"So be it then, my dear. And now let me go to sleep. I always want to go to sleep after an argument," said Madam Cavendish, closing her eyes and sinking back in her arm-chair.

Emma Cavendish stooped and kissed her, and then left the room.

In fifteen minutes after she had written and dispatched to the office at Wendover a telegram to this effect: