Mary J. Holmes - Tempest and Sunshine
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Mary J. Holmes >> Tempest and Sunshine
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"Yes," said Mr. Middleton. "About a year after her marriage I heard of the
birth of a daughter, whom she called Inez Middleton. I have heard of them
once or twice since, but not recently."
After a moment's silence Ashton, with some hesitation, said, "If I mistake
not, I know Inez Effingham well."
"You know Inez, my Inez--where--how--tell me all," said Mr. Middleton,
grasping Ashton's hand as if a new link suddenly added to the chain of
friendship which already bound them together.
"You probably remember," said Ashton, "that when I left you so suddenly
there was an American vessel in port. I was anxious to return home, but
fancied you would oppose it, so I left without a word, and went on board
the ship. During the voyage, I found that one of the crew was from my
native town. I eagerly inquired after my parents and my little sister
Nellie, whom you so often heard me mention. Judge of my feelings when told
that they were all dead. In the agony of the moment, I attempted to throw
myself overboard, but was prevented. From that time all desire to return
was gone, and when at last we stopped at one of the ports in England, I
left the vessel to try my fortune in the mother country."
"But Inez," said Mr. Middleton, "what of Inez?"
"I will tell you," answered Ashton. "After remaining in England some years
I became acquainted with her father, Sir Arthur Effingham, who lived forty
miles from London. He invited me to visit his house and there I first saw
Inez and her mother. To know Inez was to love her, but I could not hope to
win the haughty Englishman's daughter, and besides she was so young that I
did not believe I had made any impression upon her. But, encouraged by
Lady Effingham, I at length ventured to ask Inez of her father. I did not
wish to marry her then, as she was only fourteen, but her father spurned
me with contempt, and bade me never again enter his house. I obeyed, but
tried many times to procure an interview with Inez. I succeeded, and told
her I was about to leave England for America, but should never forget her.
I would not suffer her to bind herself to me by any promise, but expressed
my belief that at some future time she would be mine. It is three years
since we parted. I came immediately to America, but I could not bear to
return to my old home, and see it occupied by others, so I wandered this
way and at last settled in Frankfort as a merchant."
Here he stopped and Mr. Middleton said, "You have not told me of the
mother. Does she still live?"
Ashton answered, "She was living when I left England, but Inez has since
written me of her death."
"That will do, Ashton; that will do. I do not wish to hear any more now,"
said Mr. William.
While Mr. Middleton and Ashton were relating their adventures, Aunt Katy
was busily engaged in superintending the arrangement of "Marster
William's" sleeping room. Mrs. Middleton had bidden Judy to see that
everything was put in order, but Aunt Katy seemed to think nothing could
be done right unless she had an oversight of it. So she was walking back
and forth, consulting with Judy a little and ordering her a good deal.
"Now, Judy," said she, "hain't you no more idees of ilegance than to push
the bedstead smack up agin the clarbuds; just pull it out a foot or two,
as old Miss use to do."
Judy complied with her request and she continued: "Lordy sakes--don't Miss
Nancy know better than to put Marster William to sleep in such coarse
sheets," at the same time casting a rueful glance at the linens which Judy
had put upon the bed. "You set down, Judy," said Aunt Katy, "and I'll tend
to the bed myself."
So saying she hobbled off to her cabin and opening her "old red chist,"
drew from it a pair of half-worn, but very fine linen sheets. These she
shook most lustily in order to free them from the rose leaves, lavender
sprigs and tobacco, which she had placed between their folds. With the
former she thought to perfume them, while the latter was put there for the
purpose of keeping out moths. The old creature had heard that tobacco was
good to keep moths from woolens, and she knew of no reason why it would
not answer every purpose for linen.
"Thar," said she, on returning to the house, "these begins to look a
little like Marster William. They was gin to me by old marster, jest afore
he died. They 'longed to old Miss, and if any one on us could read, I
reckon we should find her name on 'em somewhar writ in brawdery."
When the bed and room were adjusted to her satisfaction, she went down to
the kitchen and took a seat there. Here Aunt Judy found her about ten
o'clock that night.
"What on airth you sittin' here for?" said she.
"Oh, I's only waitin' till Marster William gets a little used to his room
afore I axes him how he likes it and does he want anything."
Accordingly, not long after, Aunt Katy stole upstairs and opening the door
called out, "Ho, Marster William, does you want anything, and is you got
enough kiver?"
But "Marster William's" senses were too soundly locked in sleep to heed
the faithful creature, and after standing still a moment, she said to
herself, "I'm mighty feared he'll cotch cold."
So back she went to her cabin and from the same "red chist" took a
many-colored patchwork quilt. This she carried to the house and spread
carefully over Mr. Middleton, saying, "He won't be none too comfortable,
and in the mornin' he'll see it, and I'll tell him I done pieced and
quilted it my own self."
The consequence of this extra covering was that Mr. Middleton awoke in the
night with the impression that he was being suffocated in the hot climate
of Calcutta! He did not know that she, to whom he was indebted for his
warm berth, was now sleeping quietly and dreaming "how tickled Marster
William would be when he knew she had lent him her spare sheets and
bedquilt!"
CHAPTER XVI
FANNY REFUSES TO GO TO NEW ORLEANS
The next day was the Sabbath. Contrary to their usual custom on such
mornings, Mr. Middleton and his negroes were astir at an early hour. The
female portion of the latter were occupied in preparing a great breakfast
in honor of "Marster William's" arrival, while Mr. Middleton busied
himself in removing a part of his dark, heavy beard.
When William made his appearance in the sitting room, he was greeted by
his brother with, "How are you, Bill? Hope you slept better than I did,
for 'pears like I couldn't get asleep nohow, till toward mornin' and then
I was mighty skeary about wakin' up, for fear I should find it all
moonshine, and no Bill here after all." After a moment's pause, he added,
"Whar's t'other chap? If he don't come down directly, the hen'll spile,
for Judy's had it ready better than half an hour."
Ashton soon appeared, and the party did ample justice to Aunt Judy's
well-cooked breakfast. That meal being over, Mr. Middleton said, "Now,
boys, what do you say to goin' to meetin'? The Baptists have preachin',
and I've a mind to go. How the folk'll stare though to see Bill. Say, will
you go?"
The gentlemen signified their assent, and at the usual hour they proceeded
to the church, which was situated about two miles from Mr. Middleton's. We
are sorry for it, but truth compels us to say that on this day Uncle
Joshua was not quite as devotional as usual. He was looking over the
congregation to see what effect his brother's presence was producing. When
he saw that no one exclaimed or turned pale, and that even the minister
kept on the even tenor of his discourse, he inwardly accused them all of
being "doughheads," and wondered he had never before discovered how little
they knew. However, when meeting was over, the neighbors crowded around
the old man, congratulating him on the unexpected return of his brother,
whom they welcomed so warmly that Uncle Joshua began to think he had been
too hasty in condemning them, for "after all, they knew a heap."
That night, after supper, Mr. Middleton was again seated in the little
porch with his guests. They had been speaking of the sermon they had
heard, when Mr. Middleton said, "That's the right kind of meetin' to my
notion. A feller can sleep a bit if he feels like it; but whar my gals go,
in Frankford, they have the queerest doin's--keep a gittin' up and sittin'
down; 'pears like you don't moren't git fairly sot afore you have to hist
up again, and you can't sleep to save you. Then they have streaked yaller
and black prar books and keep a-readin' all meetin' time."
"Do your daughters prefer that church?" asked William.
"Why, yes," returned his brother; "or, that is, Dick, poor boy Dick,
belonged thar; so did the young Leftenant Carrington; so does Dr. Lacey;
and that's reason enough why Sunshine should prefer it. Tempest goes thar,
I reckon, because its fashionable, and she can have a nice prar-book to
show. You ought to see the one I bought for Sunshine. It's all velvety,
and has gold clasps, with jest the word 'Sunshine' writ on it. Tempest has
got a more common one. It didn't cost half as much."
"I notice that you make quite a distinction between your daughters," said
William. "May I ask why you do it?"
Mr. Middleton stopped smoking and said, "If you please, Bill, I'd rather
say nothin' about that now. I make it a rule never to swar Sundays, and if
I got to goin' it about Tempest and the way she used poor Dick, I should
have to swar and no mistake. Mebby you think I'd better not swar any
time."
"Yes," answered William; "I should be glad if you would not. It is a bad
habit, and I wish you would discontinue it."
"Well now, Bill," said Mr. Middleton, "Lord knows--no, I mean I know I've
tried a heap of times to break off, and now I'll try again. I'll not cuss
a word till I forget. Dick used to want me to stop, and when he died I
promised myself I would; but the pigs and horses got into the corn, and
fust I knew I was swarin' wus than ever. I wish you had seen Dick; it
can't be; he's gone forever."
"Have you no daguerreotype of him?" asked William.
"No, I hain't, but his folks have; and Mr. Miller and Kate are going home
this summer, and they'll fetch me one. That makes me think Sunshine is so
puny and sick like, that I'm goin' to let her go North with them. It'll do
her good; and I'm going to buy her four silk gowns to go with, but for
Lord's--no, for land's sake don't tell Tempest."
"I hope you are not very anxious to have Fanny go North," said William;
"for it will seriously affect a plan which I have formed."
"Well, what is it?" asked Mr. Middleton.
William then told of the house he had purchased, and of his intention to
take both his nieces back with him. "I know," said he, "that it seems
strange to take them there in hot weather; but down by the lake it will be
pleasant and cool, and I must have them with me."
"Have you said anything to them about it?" asked Mr. Middleton.
"Yes," answered his brother. "I have mentioned it to them."
"What did they say?"
"Fanny said nothing, but Julia seemed much pleased with the idea," said
William.
"I'll warrant that," returned Mr. Middleton. "She's tickled enough, and in
her own mind she's run up a bill agin me for at least five hundred.
Sunshine is so modest, I s'pose, because Dr. Lacey will be there, that she
does not want to seem very glad; but she'll go. I'll have them come home
tomorrow, and will talk the matter over. I'd as soon have her go to New
Orleans as to New York."
Here the conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Middleton, who came to tell
her husband that it was past nine. Mr. Middleton had a great horror of
being up after that hour, so he hastily bade his brother and Ashton good
night, saying to the former, "Now I've got kind of used to your being
alive, Bill, I hope I shan't have such pesky work goin' to sleep."
Next morning Ashton returned to Frankfort in the carriage which Mr.
Middleton had sent for the purpose of bringing his daughters home. For
once in her life, Julia was delighted with the idea of visiting her
parents. She had learned from a note which her mother had written that the
reason of their being sent for was to talk over the matter of going to New
Orleans. Fanny felt differently. She wished, yet dreaded, to go home. She
too knew why they were sent for; and as she was determined not to go to
New Orleans, it would be necessary at last to tell her father the true
reason. She was certain he would be unsparing in his wrath against Dr.
Lacey, and she almost trembled for the consequences.
When at last she was ready she descended to the parlor, and sitting down
to her piano ran her fingers lightly over the keys. At that moment Frank
Cameron entered. He had learned from his cousin, Kate, enough of Fanny's
history to make him fear that she never could be aught to him; and yet the
knowledge that he could not, must not, hope to win her, only rendered the
attraction stronger. He was intending to start for home the next day, and
had now come to spend a few minutes alone with Fanny ere he bade her
good-by. As he entered the room she ceased playing, and said, "I believe
you leave town tomorrow, do you not?"
"I do," replied Frank, "and am come to bid you good-by now; for when you
return I shall probably be looking on the dust, smoke and chimneys of the
Empire City." As Fanny made no answer, Frank continued, "Miss Middleton,
we shall meet again, I trust. Kate tells me that you are to accompany them
to New York this summer. I shall expect you and shall watch anxiously for
your coming."
Fanny replied, "I have thought of going North with Mrs. Miller, but it is
possible I may be disappointed."
"Disappointed!" repeated Frank; "you must not be disappointed, or
disappoint me either. I would hardly be willing to leave Frankfort if I
did not hope to see you again. And yet if we never do meet, I shall know
that I am a better man for having once seen and known you; and I shall
look back upon the few days spent in Kentucky as upon one of the bright
spots in my life."
We do not know what Fanny would have replied; for ere she had time to
answer Julia appeared in the door, calling out, "Come, Fan, the carriage
is ready. But, pray excuse me," continued she, as she saw Frank, "I had no
idea that I was interrupting so interesting a conversation as your looks
seem to indicate."
This increased Fanny's confusion, but she endeavored to appear at ease;
and rising up, she offered Frank her hand, saying, "I must bid you
farewell, Mr. Cameron."
Frank took her hand, and quick as thought raised it to his lips. Fanny's
cheeks reddened as she hastily withdrew her hand, saying rather
indignantly, "Mr. Cameron, I am surprised!"
Frank expected as much, and he said, rather gayly, "Pardon me, Miss
Middleton, I could not help it, and would not if I could. It is all I ever
hope to receive from you; and years hence, when I am a lone, lorn old
bachelor, I shall love to think of the morning when I bade good-by to and
kissed Fanny Middleton."
A moment more and the carriage drove rapidly away. Frank watched it until
it disappeared down the street; then turning away, he thought, "I have met
and parted with the only person on earth who has power to awaken in me any
deeper feeling than that of respect."
When Julia and Fanny reached home, they were greeted kindly by both their
parents and uncle. The latter had resolved to watch them closely, in order
to ascertain, if possible, the reason of his brother's evident preference
for Fanny. During the morning nothing was said of the projected visit to
New Orleans; and Julia was becoming very impatient, but she knew better
than to broach the subject herself; so she was obliged to wait.
That evening the family, as usual, assembled on the little porch. Fanny
occupied her accustomed seat and low stool by the side of her father,
whose pipe she filled and refilled; for he said, "The tobacker tasted a
heap better after Sunshine had handled it."
Julia could wait no longer, and she began the conversation by asking her
uncle something about New Orleans.
"Thar, I knew 'twould be so," said Mr. Middleton; "Tempest is in a desput
hurry to know whether I'm going to cash over and send her to market in New
Orleans."
"Well, father," said Julia, coaxingly, "you are going to let Fanny and me
go with Uncle William I know."
It was lucky for Julia that she chanced to mention her sister; for however
much her father might be inclined to tease her, the word "Fanny" mollified
him at once, and he answered, "Why, yes, I may as well let you go as to
keep you here doing nothing, and eating up my corn bread." Then drawing
Fanny nearer to him, he said, "I've talked some of letting Sunshine go to
New York, but she'll jump at the chance of going to New Orleans, I
reckon."
There was no answer, and as Julia was not particularly desirous of having
her sister's silence questioned, she rattled on about her expected visit,
and even went so far as to caress her father, because he had given his
consent to her going. It was decided that Mr. William Middleton should
return, as he had intended, in two weeks' time, so as to have everything
in readiness for the reception of his nieces, who were to come on as soon
as school closed, which would be about the tenth of June.
During all this time Fanny said not a word; and at last it occurred to her
father that she had neither expressed her desire nor willingness to go; so
he said, "Come, Sunshine, why don't you hold up your head and talk about
it? We all know you want to go mightily, and see that little doctor."
Fanny knew it was of no use delaying longer and she answered gently, but
decidedly, "Father, I have no desire to go to New Orleans. I cannot go."
"Fudge on being so very modest," replied Mr. Middleton. "It is
nateral-like that you should want to see him, and nobody'll think less of
you."
Fanny answered, "You know I have thought of going to New York with Mr. and
Mrs. Miller. I am still anxious to do so; but to New Orleans I cannot,
shall not go, unless you command me to do so."
"Saint Peter!" said Mr. Middleton. "What's the row now? What's happened to
make little Sunshine spirt up so? Don't you want to see Dr. Lacey, child?"
"No, father; I never desire to see him again."
The old cob pipe dropped from Mr. Middleton's mouth, and springing up, he
confronted Fanny, saying, "What in fury is this racket? You not wish to go
to New Orleans, or see Dr. Lacey either! I half wish you was Tempest for a
spell, so I could storm at you; but as it is Sunshine, I can't even feel
mad."
"Oh, father, father!" cried Fanny, weeping; "if you knew all that has
occurred, you would not blame me."
"What do you mean, darling?" asked Mr. Middleton, suddenly becoming cool.
"What has happened?"
Then looking at Julia, whose face was crimson, a new idea struck him, and
he exclaimed more wrathfully, "How now, Tempest? What makes you turn as
red as a hickory fire? Have you been raising a rumpus between Dr. Lacey
and Sunshine? Out with it if you have."
It was now Julia's turn to cry and appeal to her uncle, if it were not
unjust in her father always to suspect her of evil, if anything were
wrong. William very wisely kept silent, but Fanny said, "Do not accuse
Julia, for she is not guilty. She knows it all, however, and is sorry for
it."
"Knows what? Sorry for what? Why don't you tell?" said Mr. Middleton,
stalking back and forth through the porch, and setting down his feet as
heavily as if he would crush everything which might fall beneath his
tread.
"I cannot tell you now," said Fanny; "but when we are alone, you shall
know all."
In a few moments William thought proper to retire, and as his example was
soon followed by Julia, Fanny was left alone with her parents. Drawing her
stool nearer to her father, and laying her hot, feverish forehead on his
hand, she said, "Before I give any explanation, I wish you to make me a
promise."
"Promise of what?" asked her father and mother, simultaneously.
"It is not probable," answered Fanny, "that you will ever see Dr. Lacey
again, but if you do, I wish you never to mention to him what I am about
to tell you."
The promise was readily given by Mrs. Middleton, but her husband demurred,
saying, "I shan't commit myself until I know what 'tis. If Dr. Lacey has
been cuttin' up, why I'll cowhide him, that's all."
"Then I shall not tell you," was Fanny's firm reply.
Her father saw she was in earnest, and replied, "What's got your back up
so high, Sunshine? I never knew you had so much grit. What's the reason
you don't want Dr. Lacey to hear of it?"
"Because," said Fanny, hesitatingly, "because I do not wish him to know
how much I care about it; and besides, it can do no possible good. Now,
father, promise you will not tell him or any one else."
Mr. Middleton was finally persuaded, and his promise given, Fanny knew it
would not be broken, for her father prided himself on keeping his word. So
she gave an account of Dr. Lacey's conduct, and ended her narrative by
producing a letter, which she supposed came from him. Up to the moment Mr.
Middleton had sat perfectly still; but meantime his wrath had waxed warmer
and warmer, until at last it could no longer be restrained, but burst
forth in such a storm of fury as made Fanny stop her ears.
She, however, caught the words, "And I was fool enough to promise not to
say a word. Well, thank the Lord, I didn't promise not to shoot the puppy.
Let me catch him within pistol shot of me, and I'll pop him over as I
would a woodchuck. And if he don't come back, I'll go all the way to New
Orleans for the sake of doin' on't. I'll larn him to fool with my gal;
yes, I will!"
Fanny's fears for Dr. Lacey's safety were immediately roused; and again
were her arms wound round the neck of her enraged father, while she begged
of him to be quiet, and think reasonably of the matter. Not long could one
resist the arguments of Fanny; and in less than half an hour her father
grew calm, and said more gently, "I shouldn't have been so rarin' mad, if
it had been anybody but you, Sunshine. I s'pose I did go on high, and swar
like a pirate. I didn't mean to do that, for I promised Bill I'd try and
leave off."
"Leave swearing?" said Fanny. "Oh, I'm so glad. I hope you will. Now
promise that you will, dear father, and say again that you will not
mention Dr. Lacey's conduct either to him or to any one else."
"I have promised once," said Mr. Middleton, "and one promise is as good as
forty. Old Josh'll never break his word as long as he has his senses. But
that paltry doctor owes his life to you, Sunshine. Half an hour ago I was
as fully set to knock him over as I am now determined to let the varmint
go to destruction in his own way."
Fanny shuddered at the idea of her father becoming the murderer of Dr.
Lacey, and Mrs. Middleton rejoined, "I am glad, husband, to hear you talk
more sensibly. It can do no possible good for you to shoot Dr. Lacey, and
then lose your own life, as you assuredly would; besides, I think the less
we say of the matter, the better it will be."
"I reckon you are right, Nancy," said Mr. Middleton; "but hang it all,
what excuse shall I give Bill for not lettin' the gals go to New Orleans?"
"But, father," said Fanny, "you will let Julia go, of course. Uncle knows
I do not intend to go, and consequently will think nothing of that; and
there is no reason why Julia should not go to New Orleans, and I to New
York. Now, say we may; that's a dear father."
"I s'pose I'll have to, honey," answered Mr. Middleton; "but if I can see
ahead an inch, you're bitin' your own nose off by sending Tempest to New
Orleans without you."
Afterward Fanny remembered this speech, and understood it, too; but now
she was prevented from giving it a thought by her father, who continued,
"Doesn't that Cameron chap live some'us in New York?"
There was no reason for it, but Fanny blushed deeply as she replied, "Yes,
sir; Mr. Cameron lives in New York City; but I am not going to see him."
"Mebby not," answered her father; "but my name ain't Josh if he won't be
on the lookout for you. And 'twixt us, darling, now the doctor's sarved
you such a scaly trick, I shouldn't pitch and drive much if I heard that
you and Cameron were on good terms."
"That will never, never be," answered Fanny. "I shall always live at home
with you and mother."
"You are a blessed daughter," said Mr. Middleton, "and I hope there's
better fortin in store for you than to stay hived up with us two old
crones; and I can't help thinkin' that you'll have Dr. Lacey yet, or
somebody a heap better. Now go to bed, child, for your eyes are gettin'
red like, and heavy."
Fanny obeyed and retired to her room, where she found Julia sitting up and
waiting for her. As soon as Fanny appeared she began, "Fan, you are a real
good girl. I was pleased to hear you talk. Nobody but you could have done
anything with the old heathen."
"What are you talking about?" asked Fanny.
"Why," said Julia, "I had my head out of the window, listening all the
time, and overheard what you said. Once I trembled for fear father would
take it into his head not to let me go any way; but you fixed it all
right, and I thank you for it." As Fanny made no answer, Julia continued,
"I heard, too, all about Frank Cameron. Now, Fan, I know he admires you,
and I really hope you'll not be silly enough to discourage him. I shall
expect you to write that you have become Mrs. Cameron."
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