Ishmael; Or, In the Depths Part 118

The latter, however, did not linger long; but soon followed the ladies to the drawing room, where coffee was served. And soon after the party separated for the evening. Herman Brudenell withdrew to his chamber with one idea occupying him--his son. Since the death of Nora had paralyzed his affections, Herman Brudenell had loved no creature on earth until he met her son upon this evening. Now the frozen love of years melted and flowed into one strong, impetuous stream towards him--her son--his son!

Oh, that he might dare to claim him!

It was late when Mr. Brudenell fell asleep--so late that he overslept himself in the morning. And when at last he awoke he was surprised to find that it was ten o'clock.

But Judge Merlin's house was "liberty hall." His guests breakfasted when they got up, and got up when they awoke. It was one of his crochets never to have anyone awakened. He said that when people had had sleep enough, they would awaken of themselves, and to awaken them before that was an injurious interference with nature. And his standing order in regard to himself was, that no one should ever arouse him from sleep unless the house was on fire, or someone at the point of death. And woe betide anyone who should disregard this order!

So Mr. Brudenell had been allowed to sleep until he woke up at ten o'clock, and when he went downstairs at eleven he found a warm breakfast awaiting him, and the little housewife, Bee, presiding over the coffee.

As Bee poured out his coffee she informed him, in answer to his remarks, that all the members of the family had breakfasted and gone about their several affairs. The judge and Ishmael had gone to court, and Mrs.

Middleton and Claudia on a shopping expedition; but they would all be back at the luncheon hour, which was two o'clock.

CHAPTER LX.

HERMAN AND HANNAH.

She had the pa.s.sions of her herd.

She spake some bitter truths that day, Indeed he caught one ugly word, Was scarcely fit for her to say!

--_Anon_.

When breakfast was over Mr. Brudenell took his hat and walked down the Avenue to Seventh Street, and to the Farmer's in search of Hannah.

In answer to his inquiries he was told that she was in, and he was desired to walk up to her room. A servant preceding him, opened a door, and said:

"Here is a ge'man to see you, mum."

And Mr. Brudenell entered.

Hannah looked, dropped the needlework she held in her hand, started up, overturning the chair, and with a stare of consternation exclaimed:

"The Lord deliver us! is it you? And hasn't the devil got you yet, Herman Brudenell?"

"It is I, Hannah," he answered, dropping without invitation into the nearest seat.

"And what on earth have you come for, after all these years?" she asked, continuing to stare at him.

"To see you, Hannah."

"And what in the name of common sense do you want to see me for? I don't want to see you; that I tell you plainly; for I'd just as lief see Old Nick!"

"Hannah," said Herman Brudenell, with an unusual a.s.sumption of dignity, "I have come to speak to you about--Are you quite alone?" he suddenly broke off and inquired, cautiously glancing around the room.

"What's that to you? What can you have to say to me that you could not shout from the housetop? Yes, I'm alone, if you must know!"

"Then I wish to speak to you about my son."

"Your--what?" demanded Hannah, with a frown as black as midnight.

"My son," repeated Herman Brudenell, with emphasis.

"Your son? What son? I didn't know you had a son! What should I know about your son?"

"Woman, stop this! I speak of my son, Ishmael Worth--whom I met for the first time in the courtroom yesterday! And I ask you how it has fared with him these many years?" demanded Mr. Brudenell sternly, for he was beginning to lose patience with Hannah.

"Oh--h! So you met Ishmael Worth in the courtroom yesterday, just when he had proved himself to be the most talented man there, did you? That accounts for it all. I understand it now! You could leave him in his helpless, impoverished, orphaned infancy to peris.h.!.+ You could utterly neglect him, letting him suffer with cold and hunger and sickness for years and years and years! And now that, by the blessing of Almighty G.o.d, he has worked himself up out of that horrible pit into the open air of the world; and now that from being a poor, despised outcast babe he has risen to be a man of note among men; now, forsooth, you want to claim him as your son! Herman Brudenell, I always hated you, but now I scorn you! Twenty odd years ago I would have killed you, only I didn't want to kill your soul as well as your body, nor likewise to be hanged for you! And now I would shy this stick of wood at your head only that I don't want Reuben Gray to have the mortification of seeing his wife took up for a.s.sault! But I hate you, Herman Brudenell! And I despise you!

There! take yourself out of my sight!"

Mr. Brudenell stamped impatiently and said:

"Hannah, you speak angrily, and therefore, foolishly. What good could accrue to me, or to him, by my claiming Ishmael as my son, unless I could prove a marriage with his mother? It would only unearth the old, cruel, unmerited scandal now forgotten! No, Hannah; to you only, who are the sole living depository of the secret, will I solace myself by speaking of him as my son! You reproach me with having left him to perish. I did not so. I left in your hands a check for several--I forget how many--thousand dollars to be used for his benefit. And I always hoped that he was well provided for until yesterday, when Judge Merlin, little thinking the interest I had in the story, gave me a sketch of Ishmael's early sufferings and struggles. And now I ask you what became of that check?"

"That check? What check? What in the world do you mean?"

"The check for several thousand dollars which I gave you on the day of my departure, to be used for Ishmael's benefit."

"Well, Herman Brudenell! I always thought, with all your faults, you were still a man of truth; but after this--"

And Hannah finished by lifting her hands and eyes in horror.

"Hannah, you do severely try my temper, but in memory of all your kindness to my son--"

"Oh! I wasn't kind to him! I was as bad to him as you, and all the rest!

I wished him dead, and neglected him!"

"You did!"

"Of course! Could anybody expect me to care more for him than his own father did? Yes, I wished him dead, and neglected him, because I thought he had no right to be in the world, and would be better out of it! So did everyone else. But he sucked his little, skinny thumb, and looked alive at us with his big, bright eyes, and lived in defiance of everybody. And only see what he has lived to be! But it is the good Lord's doings and not mine, and not yours, Herman Brudenell, so don't thank me anymore for kindness that I never showed to Ishmael, and don't tell any more bragging lies about the checks for thousands of dollars that you never left him!"

Again Herman Brudenell stamped impatiently, frowned, bit his lips, and said:

"You shall not goad me to anger with the two-edged sword of your tongue, Hannah! You are unjust, because you are utterly mistaken in your premises! I did leave that check of which I speak! And I wish to know what became of it, that it was not used for the support and education of Ishmael. Listen, now, and I will bring the whole circ.u.mstance to your recollection."

And Herman Brudenell related in detail all the little incidents connected with his drawing of the check, ending with: "Now don't you remember, Hannah?"

Hannah looked surprised, and said:

"Yes, but was that little bit of dirty white paper, tore out of an old book, worth all that money?"

"Yes! after I had drawn a check upon it!"

"I didn't know! I didn't understand! I was sort o' dazed with grief, I suppose."

"But what became of the paper, Hannah?"

"Mrs. Jones lit the candle with it!"