Stanford Eveleth - Miss Dexie

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"This is not my carriage dress, my dear papa, but my working suit; but
seeing that Mr. Traverse has been talking to me at the back gate in this
very _rig_ and survived the shock, I trust the second sight won't prove
disastrous. If you say you can spare me, I'll promise not to appear in this
costume in public. Thanks, papa. How soon do you wish to start, Mr.
Traverse?"

"In half an hour, if possible," was the smiling answer.

"You will find me waiting your appearance," and making a sweeping,
old-fashioned courtesy, she pulled her bonnet forward with a jerk and
danced out of the room.

Traverse looked after her with a smile, and with a few pleasant words to
Mr. Sherwood, and a polite "good-morning" to Gussie, he bowed himself out.

As soon as Guy was beyond hearing, Gussie's ill-humor found vent. She did
not see why Dexie should leave her work to go about the country with young
men, and Traverse must have regretted his invitation when he caught sight
of Dexie's ridiculous figure, her dress to the top of her boots and a
sun-bonnet that would disgrace a country-woman! But one never knew what
Dexie would do next. Awhile ago she could scarcely speak a civil word to
Mr. Traverse, but now that she knows he expects to be married, her manner
is just the reverse. Reproaches like these fell on Mr. Sherwood's ears
unheeded, but a kindly smile lit up his face when Dexie made her
appearance, looking as dainty as if right out of a band-box, and as she
drew on her gloves a handsome buggy drove up to the door.

Giving her father a hasty kiss, she whispered:

"I wish you were able to go in my place," then ran down the steps, and a
few minutes later the high-spirited horse carried them out of sight.

They did not return for some hours, and Dexie enjoyed the little excursion
exceedingly; she was grieved to find on her return that her father had
spent a very sick day, and she regretted leaving him for her own pleasure.

"You needed the change, my dear," her father assured her. "You are losing
your roses by waiting on me so constantly, and this hand is thinner than it
was six months ago," and he patted the hand that rested in his own.

Mr. Sherwood was daily growing weaker, and had to keep his bed the greater
part of the time. The old pain returned oftener, and was so very severe
while it lasted that it kept them all in a constant state of alarm. This so
worked on Mrs. Sherwood's nerves that her fancied illness threatened to
develop into something not quite so imaginative, and she required almost as
much care as her husband. It became necessary for Gussie to spend a part of
her time in her mother's room, and this she disliked very much, for Mrs.
Sherwood was not a patient sufferer, and Gussie chaffed and fretted against
the restraint to her liberty. Her extreme selfishness was so apparent that
her mother received her half-hearted services with little thanks.

The constant care and attention which divided Dexie's time between her
father's and her mother's room made it very hard to keep domestic matters
running smoothly, and Gussie's obstinate refusal to take any part of the
labor of the household or care of the children upon her own shoulders, gave
Dexie little chance to get the rest she needed. This was telling on her
health, and she was fast losing her rounded cheeks, and her eyes began to
look so large and black that it made Guy's heart ache to look at her. He
wished to tell Mrs. Sherwood of their engagement, and even attempted to
persuade Dexie into marrying him at once, so that he would have the right
to protect her against some of the needless burdens that were put upon her
young shoulders, but Dexie would not hear of it.

"Mother is aware that I expect to be married by and by; if she is making a
mistake as to the man let it be for the present. Were the truth known, my
life would be unbearable. It is all I can do to keep the true state of
affairs from coming to papa's ears, and he has enough to bear without
family troubles being put upon him."

"My dear little girl, do you think I am going to let you stay here and be
at the beck and call of everyone? Let me claim you at once; that will be
the best way to settle the difficulty, and your father would say the same
if he knew about it."

"But he must not know it, Guy; think how unhappy it would make him. It
would never do, dear; but I have a good mind to write and ask Louie to come
home. Surely aunt would let her come for a few weeks. I have written to her
about it before, but she would not let her come unless she was positively
needed, and I do think she is now. She must be quite a young lady by this
time, and would be such a help and comfort. I believe I will write and ask
her again."

That night, while Dexie sat up with her father, the letter was written, and
Guy dropped it in the letter-box on his way home, and in less than a week,
to Dexie's great joy, Louie came rushing into the house, as fresh and
strong as any little country lassie.

Her coming did, indeed, make a great difference in the house, as Dexie
expected. She brought such a new atmosphere into it with her quick,
outspoken criticisms, that she worked quite a revolution.

Then she had so much that was new to tell them all, and it was told in such
a breezy way, that her father brightened up as he listened. Her aunt had
not sent her empty-handed either, for she had a loving and tender heart
under a rather harsh exterior, the cold looks with which all sentiment was
frowned down seemed but the rough, hard shell which covered a noble and
generous disposition. But this rather severe aunt had refused Louie
permission to make many visits at her father's home, on account of the
displeasure with which she regarded her mother. She had never been pleased
at her brother's marriage, and when Louie had been given over to her care
she determined to cut off all connection with the mother's influence.
Dexie's letter had revealed more than she was aware to the keen,
sharp-sighted woman, and Louie was sent to help wait on her father, with
many admonitions as to her conduct at home. She was given a "month's leave
of absence," as Louie laughingly expressed it, but when alone with Dexie
she admitted that her aunt would extend the time if her father should seem
to be near the end.

Louie was very practical in many things, wasting little sentiment on
trifles, and Mrs. Sherwood reaped the benefit of Louie's strict bringing
up, which she had received at the hands of her aunt.

"Now, mother," she said one day, as she displayed some of the handsome
garments her aunt had provided her with, "do try and get well as quickly as
you can. I have only a month to stay, and I brought these dresses to wear,
and I cannot do that if I am to be a nurse for you. I will get everything,
and do everything for you, that you really need, but I cannot run up and
down stairs all the time on useless errands. I can't think how Dexie has a
foot left to stand on, the way she is called hither and thither. Of course,
she must have a rest, now that I am home, or she will be laid up, and that
would be a calamity for this house, I fancy. Now, you sit up, and I'll
brush your hair and fix you up so nice that you will long to get downstairs
to the rest of us, for I am going to spend the next hour with papa," and
she bustled about the room and set everything in order to her mother's
hand.

To the surprise of the family, Mrs. Sherwood made her appearance downstairs
before Louie had been in the house a week; and as she continued to improve,
Louie quietly ordered an easy carriage to be at the door at a certain hour,
and when that hour arrived she made her appearance in such becoming attire
that she had little trouble to induce her mother to step into the carriage
with her, and as these outings became quite frequent they soon had a
beneficial effect on her mother's health and spirits.

Louie's home-coming made a difference that was quite remarkable in Gussie
also. She took so much for granted that Gussie was constrained to exert
herself. It was rather amusing to watch Gussie's face when Louie would say,
as they rose from the breakfast table:

"Now, Gussie, come on. I'm not going to be a mere visitor, you know; so
I'll help you set the rooms in order. You will be no time over them, with
my help;" and not wishing it to be known that all such things were left to
Dexie, she would follow Louie, and join in the task for very shame sake.

But Dexie enjoyed Louie's visit more than anyone, for she not only kept
Gussie's hands employed, but her presence forbade the continual
fault-finding which she had hitherto freely indulged in; for Louie was a
person of some consequence, being the heiress of considerable property, as
well as possessor of a bank book that she was at liberty to use at her own
discretion, and this had much influence over Gussie.

Louie soon remarked the frequent visits of Guy Traverse, but was puzzled at
first to account for them. Gussie had told her that he was engaged to a
young lady in the city, and was only a particular friend of her father's;
but this did not prevent Louie from forming her own opinion on the matter.

She asked her mother one day, as she brushed out her hair, how it was that
her father had become so attached to such a young man, and if there were
not some other reason to account for his frequent visits.

"He was with your father when he was hurt, and your father thinks he saved
his life at the risk of his own, so I daresay that may account for the
attachment. I did hope at one time that Gussie might be able to secure him;
they would make a nice-looking couple. I have thought sometimes that he
pays Dexie sufficient attention to warrant her in thinking he means
something serious, but Hugh McNeil has some claim on her; he has been to
see her lately. You remember he had quite a fortune left him. I expect she
will keep a fine establishment when she is married. But I know nothing
about her affairs; she was always close-mouthed, and she is sure to do
something entirely different from what you expect."

"But, mamma, this Mr. Traverse seems to be more than just friendly to
Dexie. I am sure he is with her every chance he gets."

"Oh! that is nothing; he is seldom in her company outside of her father's
room. Besides, he is going to be married to someone in the city. He said as
much before us all. I am sure Dexie does not care for him in that way. If
you had heard the way she used to talk to him, you would see at once that
his visits mean nothing to her."

"Nevertheless, mother, I have my suspicions," said the quick-witted girl,
as she left the room.

"I'll corner Dexie sometime, see if I don't," she said to herself. "If
there is any love-making going on in this house, it will be a funny thing
if I do not find it out!"

But Dexie was well aware that there were a sharp pair of eyes about, and it
took considerable manoeuvring to get a word with Guy without having Louie
pounce in upon them at the most unexpected moment.

"Seems to me, Dexie," she said one day, as they were in their chamber
dressing for the afternoon, "if I was Mr. Traverse's young lady in the
city," and she made a grimace, "I would not care to have my young man visit
so much in a house where there are marriageable young ladies. Do you think
she is aware of his frequent visits here?"

"What lady do you refer to, Louie?" turning from the mirror, where a
blushing face was too freely reflected.

"You know who I mean well enough! The lady that Gussie says he is going to
marry. I suppose you know that story as well as Gussie."

"Oh, yes; it is quite an old thing now. I have had it dinned into my ears
till I am tired, both of the story and the lady as well," she carelessly
replied.

"Oh, indeed!" said the laughing girl. "I suppose he has told you all about
her during one of your many interviews. When is the wedding to take place?"

"The exact time was never mentioned, Louie. If you feel very curious about
it, why not ask Mr. Traverse yourself. He might give you an invitation to
the wedding, you know."

"But, honestly, Dexie, does he ever talk to you about his future wife?"

"Certainly! why shouldn't he? Didn't Gussie tell you that he announced his
approaching marriage before the whole family?"

"Well, Dexie Sherwood, you can smile and smile and be--the young lady
yourself, after all," said Louie, not yet convinced, "and that ring looks
new, and I see no photograph of Hugh McNeil lying inside your favorite
book, so there!"

"Well, you might have seen one in the album if you had looked for it, you
silly girl. And how many new rings has Gussie had since you were home, and
yet I hear no word of her engagement!"

"That may be, my dear sister Dexie; but I have not seen any young man kiss
Gussie good-bye at the door, either; therefore I begin to think--"

What her thoughts might be upon the matter, Dexie did not give her time to
express, but disappeared from the room as suddenly as if the cry of "Fire"
had been raised in the house.

"Well, I may be mistaken; then, again, I may not," said Louie,
reflectively, as she found herself alone, "but appearances point to the
latter view. However, auntie says that 'circumstantial evidence is not
positive proof,' so I will wait for further developments. If it is so--all
right; if it is _not_ so, well--then I think they should not be _quite_ so
familiar when Dexie shows him out. He is quite a handsome young gentleman
and will make a distinguished-looking brother-in-law, and I am ready with
my approval and blessing as soon as they ask for it; but, by the way things
look to me, my approval and blessing have not been waited for."

When Dexie entered her father's room, she found Mr. Hackett, the lawyer,
present, and she was about to withdraw when her father called her to his
side.

"You will have to go over the papers in the desk with Mr. Hackett, Dexie,"
he said. "There are one or two missing which I know I have put somewhere in
safety, so look carefully, dear; the loss of them would be rather serious
in a case that Mr. Hackett has yet to settle. In case I have not mentioned
it before, Mr. Hackett," and he turned towards the lawyer, "the old desk
with all its contents, excepting those bundles relating to business
matters, which you will take with you, belong to Dexie, here. There are
several unfinished manuscripts which you can easily finish yourself, Dexie,
and who knows but the beginning of your fame and fortune may be lying
there waiting for you in the old ink-stained desk. There, do not cry,
Dexie! It grieves me to see you fretting. You would not like to have your
poor father lying here suffering much longer, surely! Now, be my brave,
helpful little woman a little while longer, and help Mr. Hackett all you
can. I was speaking of the old desk, Dexie; do not part with it to anyone,
dear. Keep it as my last gift to you, and, if it ever needs repairing, have
it done under your own eyes. Do not forget this, Dexie."

Dexie winked away her tears, and bent over to arrange his pillows more
comfortably, saying:

"Do you want me to hunt up the papers now, papa? I will do so at once, if
Mr. Hackett will explain what they are about."

"He will help you, then you can get through more quickly. You had better
explain to my daughter, Mr. Hackett, about the amount of income there will
be in the future. She is the housekeeper here, though I expect she will not
remain in that position very long after I am gone. I am glad I purchased
this property when we first moved here. It is increasing in value every
year, and, if they should ever find it necessary, they can sell it and be
comfortable in a smaller place, but this will not be needful for some
years, if things are properly managed. There is another thing, Mr. Hackett,
which I wish you would see about for them. Look around and find a
respectable middle-aged couple that will be capable of giving the necessary
help about the house and grounds. The place needs a man around it to keep
it in order, and if his wife looked after the work in the house they would
give better satisfaction than single people, I fancy. I cannot think what
they will do when Dexie has left the house," and he sighed heavily.

When Mr. Hackett departed with the missing papers, Mr. Sherwood called her
to his side and explained many things which would have to be seen to after
his death, and Dexie sat and listened with quivering lips and hands
clasped, palms downwards, across her lap, in an agony of mind, until she
fell on her knees beside his couch, crying, "Oh! papa! dear papa! what
shall I do without you!"

Her father stroked the ruffled hair and soothed her by his tender words
till her tears flowed less freely and her sobs were checked, when he added:

"Now, I want to speak of yourself, Dexie. Do not keep Traverse waiting for
you after I am gone. He has been very patient, and it has been on my
account that he has waited so long for you. I am not blind to the trouble
which you have borne so bravely and quietly these few months back; you have
had little time to prepare anything for your new life, as most girls like
to do, but this shall be made up to you, my dear. I have thought sometimes
I would ask you to have your marriage performed here before me, but I will
not be so selfish; that should be the happiest hour of a woman's life, and
it would not be so to you under such circumstances. Louie has brightened
the house by her coming, but she will soon be returning to her aunt, and
then I am afraid you will find it harder than ever, my dear little Dexie."

Mrs. Sherwood came into the room, and finding Dexie sobbing on her father's
pillow, was much alarmed.

"What is it? Are you worse, Clarence?" she cried, hysterically.

"No, no, dear wife, not that. But I have been giving Dexie some directions
regarding matters after I am gone, and it makes her feel badly, poor little
girl! She has been a good daughter to us, wife; so do not forget it when
she needs your help and sympathy, and that time may be nearer than you
think."

Dexie could bear no more, but she must not grieve her father by her tears;
so rose hurriedly, and kissing his brow, left the room. She met Louie in
the hall, and alarmed her by her grief.

"Is papa worse, Dexie?"

"I do not think so, but he has been talking to me about things which must
be done when he is gone, and it breaks my heart! Poor papa! he is so kind
and thoughtful, he seems to remember the smallest thing that we shall need
to look after, and advises about them. I am afraid it will not be many
days, Louie, before it is all over, and I believe he thinks so himself,"
and she went to her room to sob away her grief.

It was evident to them all the next day that Mr. Sherwood was rapidly
sinking, and Dexie scarcely left his side for a moment.

Once when he woke from a troubled sleep he smiled into her face, and said
faintly:

"She sang it very well, didn't she, Dexie? the 'pastures green,' you know.
I never have forgotten it. Can you sing it now for me?"

"Try to tell me a little more, dear papa. Where was it you heard it?"
trying in vain to think what had called forth this request.

"At Dr. Grant's church that Sunday morning in Halifax. You know--the new
singer you wanted to hear. I know all about the 'pastures green' now,
Dexie, but sing about it."

Instantly the Sunday morning so long ago flashed back to her mind, and with
one arm around her father's neck, as she kneeled by his side, she sang:

"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want.
He makes me down to lie
In pastures green; he leadeth me
The quiet waters by."

Her voice trembled, but there was a happy ring to it withal, and presently
she saw that he slept again, his face looking happy and peaceful as it
rested on the pillows.

When the doctor made his usual visit, he stayed a long time in the room,
and he looked very serious as he called Dexie to the door.

"You realize how ill your father is, do you not, Miss Sherwood?" and he
looked earnestly into her face. "Ah! I see you do. I wished to prepare you
for the worst. I will come in later in the day and see if I can be of use."

"You think there is immediate danger, Dr. Brown?"

"He may live through the day--not much longer, I fear. You have been
expecting this, have you not?"

"I was afraid of it," and she hid her face in her hands.

"Is there anyone I can send for, for you? If I can be of use in any way,
Miss Sherwood, command me."

"Someone must tell mamma; she does not believe the end is so very near.
Would you do it? Does papa know it himself, doctor?" she added, after a
pause.

"Yes, and he wished me to make it known to the rest. Be brave a little
while longer. Now, go back to your father. You can rely on Jarvis; she
knows what to do, and has been through many trying scenes before to-day."

"Shall we send for you if--" She could not say it, but the doctor knew what
she meant.

"Yes, if you like. I can do little, if anything, more; but he will not
suffer any. Now I will see your mother," and he turned and left her to her
grief.

It took some time for Mrs. Sherwood to fully realize the truth, for she
listened to the doctor as if dazed. It was the first trouble that had ever
really touched her, and at the suggestion of Jarvis she went to her room,
where by degrees she grew calmer, as the terrible truth came home to heart
that she was soon to be left a widow and her children fatherless.

When Louie came into her father's room a few moments later, and learned the
truth, she threw her arms around Dexie's neck and wept with her. This was
the darkest hour they had ever known. But there was no time to indulge in
grief at present--that would come later--and Dexie whispered:

"Take Gussie up to her room, Louie, and tell her there, and do not let her
come down till she is quiet. Warn Georgie not to go away from the house;
papa may ask for him any minute. I am so thankful the doctor has told
mamma! Watch the door, Louie, and when the minister calls to-day try and
persuade mamma to see him. She would not see him the last time he was here.
Oh, dear! I shall be so glad when Guy comes in!"

"Give me one little bit of comfort to cheer my heart this sad day, Dexie.
Tell me, what is Guy Traverse to you--do, Dexie?"

"Dear Louie, you _shall_ know, if you think it will comfort you any. He is
my promised husband."

"I thought so all the time, and I am so glad!" and she turned away to
prepare Gussie for the dreaded hour.

The time passed heavily and sadly, until the day drew near its close. Mrs.
Jarvis was sitting near the bed, watching, with the eyes of an experienced
nurse, for any change, and presently she bent over Dexie, who was kneeling
by the bedside, and whispered:

"I think I had better bring back your mother. Do you think she can bear
it?"

"She _must_ bear it!" Dexie answered, with a sob.

As Jarvis left the room, Guy quietly entered it, and saw at a glance that
the end was near. Dexie gave him one appealing look as he came beside her.

Bending over, he laid his arm across her shoulder, and whispered:

"Is there anything I can do, darling?"

Dexie shook her head, and the look on her face told of the anguish that was
wringing her heart.

Seeing that her father had opened his eyes, she bent nearer.

"Are you in pain, dear papa?"

"No, dear child; and I shall soon be where that question is never asked."

Lifting his eyes, he saw Guy, and his lips parted in a smile.

"So glad you have come, my boy!" and he held out his hand. "You have indeed
been like a son to me from the very first. You will be good to my little
girl, and do not wait to claim her; take her very soon, and do not let her
fret for me. Raise me up, Traverse! Ah! that is easier," as Guy seated
himself on the bed, and raised his head and shoulders on a pillow with his
arm.

Supported by Guy's arm, and with his head leaning against Guy's shoulder,
Mr. Sherwood embraced his wife, who was led to the bedside by Jarvis, and
Dexie bowed her head from the sight of the despair written on her mother's
face.

The family were soon assembled around the bed. Mrs. Jarvis lifted Flossie
in her arms, and telling her to "kiss papa good-night," laid her on the bed
beside him a moment, then carried her from the room, and the few loving
words spoken to Georgie did much to make him grow up a true, good man.

Gussie was overcome with grief when she realized that her father was dying,
but Louie's loving arm was thrown around her, and she restrained her sobs
to hear her father's last few words.

It was a sad scene. The dying father, supported in the arms of Guy
Traverse, was looking for the last time on the faces of his family. Dexie,
kneeling close to where Guy sat, with one of her father's hands clasped in
both her own, was silently weeping. Mrs. Sherwood was kneeling on the
opposite side of the bed, her face hidden against her dying husband's
breast. Louie and Gussie stood near, their arms around each other's waists;
while Mrs. Jarvis stood behind them, her arms extended across their
shoulders, as if she would willingly protect them from this anguish if she
could. Poor Georgie sobbed at the foot of the bed, a picture of childish
woe.

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