Читать книгу The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 02, No. 11, September, 1858 - Various - Страница 5

The last picture was a pleasant relief in a rather sombre story, therefore we prefer to commence a stormier scene in a new chapter. Mark and Mildred were sitting cozily by the ample fireplace,—not at opposite corners, you may believe,—when there was a warning ahem! at the door, and the sound of feet "a-raspin' on the scraper." Mr. Alford entered and said, "Milly, your step-mother's team is comin' up the road." In a moment there was a bustle in the house, but before any preparation could be made the carriage was at the gate, and Mrs. Kinloch, accompanied by Squire Clamp, knocked at the door.

"Milly, you go into the kitchen with Mrs. Alford," said the farmer.

"I'll attend to matters for them."

"No, Mr. Alford," she answered; "you are very good, but I think I'll stay and see them. Shan't I, Mark?"

Mrs. Kinloch and the lawyer entered. She had left off her mourning, but looked as pale and thoughtful as ever. After the common courtesies, brief and cool in this case, Mrs. Kinloch made known her errand. She had been grieved that Mildred should have left her father's house and remained so long with strangers, and she had now come to beg her to return home. Mildred replied, that she had not left home without cause, and that she had no intention of going back at present. Mrs. Kinloch looked hurt, and said that this unusual conduct, owing partly to the common and wicked prejudice against step-mothers, had wounded her sorely, and she hoped Mildred would do her the simple justice of returning to a mother who loved her, and would make every sacrifice for her happiness. Mildred said she did not wish to go over the ground again; she thought she understood the love that had been shown her; and she did not desire any further sacrifices, such as she had witnessed. The request was renewed in various forms, but to no purpose. Then Squire Clamp interposed with great solemnity, saying, that, if she had forgotten the respect and affection due to the mother who had fostered her, she ought to know that the law had conferred upon him, as her guardian, the authority of a father, and he begged her not to give him the pain of exercising the control which it would be his bounden duty to use.

Mr. Alford had been uneasy during this conversation, and broke in at the first pause.

"Well, Square, I guess you'd best wait till 'bout next week-a-Thursday afore you try to use your 'thority. Probate Court sets on Wednesday, an' I guess that'll 'bout wind up your business as guardeen."

What a magazine of wrath that shot exploded! The lawyer was dumb for a moment, but presently he and Mrs. Kinloch both found breath for their indignation.

The woman turned first upon Mark. "This is your doing, Sir!"

"You do too much honor to my foresight," he replied. "I am heartily glad that my good friend here was thoughtful enough and ready to interfere for the protection of a fatherless girl."

"Insolence!" shouted the lawyer.

"The impertinent puppy!" chimed in the woman.

"Come, come!" said the farmer, "too loud talkin'!"

"Then you uphold this girl in her undutiful behavior, do you?" asked Mrs. Kinloch.

"You are amenable to the statutes, Sir," said the Squire.

Mr. Alford rose to his feet. "Now you might jest as well get inter yer kerridge an' drive back ter town," said he; "you won't make one o' them hairs o' yourn black or white, Square, not by talkin' all day."

The lawyer settled his wig in a foaming rage. "Come, Mrs. Clamp," said he, "we shall not remain here to be insulted. Let us go; I shall know how to protect our property, our authority, and honor, from the assault of adventurers and meddlers."

"I beg your pardon, Sir," said Mark, "but what was the appellation you gave to the lady just now? You can call us what you like."

"Mrs. Clamp, Sir," he answered, with a portentous emphasis,—"Mrs. Clamp,—united to me, Sir, this morning, by the Reverend Mr. Rook, in the holy bands of matrimony."

They swept out of the house. Mildred sank to her chair as if stunned.

"O God!" she said, "my mother and father!"

"Poor gal!" said Mr. Alford, "small comfort you'll hev in sich parents. But cheer up; you won't need for friends."

She looked up through her tears at Mark's manly face, full now of sympathy, and blessed the farmer for his words.

Mr. Alford, taking Mark aside, said, "You know about Lucy's runnin' away, most likely. Wal, now, ef she could be found, there's no knowin' what might happen; for it's my opinion she knows about Square Kinloch's affairs. I thought mebbe you might 'a' seen her in York?"

Mark replied, that he did meet her in Broadway late one afternoon, and that she looked as if she would speak; but that he hurried on, for the flaunting style of her dress was not calculated to prepossess the passers by.

"Good gracious! you don't say so! Seen her yourself? Now do you go right back to York an' hunt her up—no matter what it costs."

"But my uncle?"

"We'll look arter him."

It was speedily determined, and Mark set out the same day. Meanwhile, Mildred had promised to go and see Mr. Hardwick and endeavor to make him cheerful.

"It beats all," said Mr. Alford to his wife. "Now 'f he should find that unfort'nate gal! Wal, wal, I begin to think the Lord does look arter things some, even in this world."

We leave Squire Clamp and his new wife to their happiness; it would not be well to lift the decent veil which drops over their household. The dark, perchance guilty, past,—the stormy present, and the retribution of the future,—let memory and conscience deal with them!