Lizzy Glenn; Or, The Trials of a Seamstress Part 16

Eugenia became instantly pale and agitated. But recovering herself with an effort, she simply replied--

"How could I? To him I had, years before, been lost in the sea. I could not exist in his mind, except as one in the world of spirits.

And how did when I came back, or how do I know now, that he has not found another to fill that place in his heart which I once occupied?

On this subject I dared make no inquiry. And, even if this were not the case, I am not as I was. I had fortune and social standing when he wooed and won me. Now I am in comparative indigence, and branded as an impostor in my native city. If none recognized and received us in our own home, how could I expect him to do so? And to have been spurned as a mere pretender by him would have broken my heart at once."

Eugenia was greatly moved by this allusion to her former lover and affianced husband. The subject was one upon which she had never allowed herself to thinks except compulsorily, and but for a few moments at a time. She could not bear it. After a silence of some moments, Mrs. Gaston said--

"I have not met with or heard of Mr. Perkins for some years. He remained in Troy about six months after you went away, and, during that period, I saw him very frequently. Your loss seemed, for a time, as if it would destroy his reason. I never saw any one suffer such keen mental distress as he did. The fearful uncertainty that hung around your fate racked his mind with the intensest anguish. At the end of the time I have mentioned, he went to New York, and, I was told, left that city a year afterward; but, whether it is so or not, I never learned. Indeed, I am entirely ignorant as to whether he is now alive or dead. For years I have neither heard of him nor seen him."

Eugenia wept bitterly when Mrs. Gaston ceased speaking. She did not reply, but sat for a long time with her hand partly concealing her face, her whole body trembling nervously, and the tears falling fast from her eyes. From this excitement and agitation, consequent upon a reference to the past, she gradually recovered, and then Mrs. Gaston related, in turn, her trials and afflictions since their separation so many years before. These we will not now record for the reader, but hurry on to the conclusion of our narrative.

By a union of their efforts, Mrs. Gaston and Eugenia were enabled, though to do so required them to toil with unremitting diligence, to secure more comforts--to say nothing of the mutual strength and consolation they received from each other--than either could have possibly obtained alone. The rent of a room, and the expense of an extra light, were saved, and this was important where every cent had to be laid out with the most thoughtful economy. Eugenia no longer went out, except to visit her father. Mrs. Gaston brought home as much work from the shop as both of them could do, and received the money for it when it was done, which all went into a common fund.

Thus the time wore on, Eugenia feeling happier than she had felt for many weary years. Mrs. Gaston had been a mother to her while she lived in Troy, and Eugenia entertained for her a deep affection.

Their changed lot, hard and painful though it was, drew them closer together, and united them in a bond of mutual tenderness.

New Year's day at last came, and the mother, who had looked forward so anxiously for its arrival, that she might see her boy once more, felt happier in the prospect of meeting him than she had been for a long time. Since his departure, she had not heard a single word from him, which caused her to feel painfully anxious. But this day was to put an end to her mind's prolonged and painful suspense, in regard to him. From about nine o'clock in the morning, she began to look momently for his arrival. But the time slowly wore on, and yet he did not come. Ten, eleven twelve, one o'clock came and went, and the boy was still absent from his mother, whose heart yearned to see his fair face, and to hear his voice, so pleasant to her ear, with unutterable longings. But still the hours went by--two, three, four, and then the dusky twilight began to fall, bringing with it the heart-aching a.s.surance that her boy would not come home. The tears, which she had restrained all day, now flowed freely, and her over-excited feelings gave way to a gush of bitter grief. The next day came and went, and the next, and the next--but there was no word from Henry. And thus the days followed each other, until the severe month of January pa.s.sed away. So anxious and excited did the poor mother now become, that she could remain pa.s.sive no longer. She must see or hear from her child. Doctor R--had obtained him his place, and to him she repaired.

"But haven't you seen your little boy since he went to Lexington?"

the doctor asked, in some surprise.

"Indeed, I have not; and Mr. Sharp promised to bring him home on New Year's day," replied the mother.

"Mr. Sharp! Mr. Sharp!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the doctor, thoughtfully. "Is that the name of the man who has your son?"

"Yes, sir. That is his name."

Doctor R--arose and took two or three turns across the floor at this, and, then resuming his seat, said--

"You shall see your son to-morrow, Mrs. Gaston. I will myself go to Lexington and bring him home. I had no idea that the man had not kept his promise with you. And, as I got Henry the place, I must see that his master is as good as his word in regard to him."

With this a.s.surance, Mrs. Gaston returned home, and with a lighter heart.

CHAPTER XI.

PERKINS ANXIOUSLY SEEKS LIZZY GLENN.

ONE Morning, a few days after the young man named Perkins had related to his friend the history of his attachment to Miss Ballantine and his subsequent bereavement, he opened a letter which came by mail, among several relating to business, postmarked New Orleans. It was from an old friend, who had settled there. Among other matters, was this paragraph:--

"I heard something the other day that surprised me a good deal, and, as it relates to a subject in which no one can feel a deeper interest than yourself, I have thought it right to mention it. It is said that, about a year and a half ago, a young woman and her father suddenly made their appearance here, and claimed to be Mr. and Miss Ballantine. Their story, or rather the story of the daughter (for the father, it is, said, was out of his mind), was that the s.h.i.+p in which they sailed from New York had been burned at sea, and that a few of the pa.s.sengers had been saved in a boat, which floated about until all died but herself and father; that they were taken up almost exhausted, by a Dutch East Indiaman, and that this vessel when near the Cape of Good Hope, encountered a gale, and was blown far off south, losing two of her masts; and that she was finally wrecked upon an uninhabited island, and the few saved from her compelled to remain there for nearly two years before being discovered and taken off. This story was not believed. Mr.

Paralette, it is said, who has retained possession of all Mr.

Ballantine's property since his absence, was waited upon by the young woman; but he repulsed her as an impostor, and refused to make the least investigation into her case. He had his own reasons for this, it is also said. Several of Mr. Ballantine's old friends received notes from her; but none believed her story, especially as the man she called her father bore little or no resemblance to Mr.

Ballantine. But it is now said, by many, that loss of reason and great physical suffering had changed him, as these would change any man. Discouraged, disheartened, and dismayed at the unexpected repulse she met, it is supposed by some, who now begin to half believe the story, that she died in despair. Others say that the same young woman who called upon Mr. Paralette has occasionally been seen here; And it is also said that two of our most eminent physicians were engaged by a young woman, about whom there was to them something singular and inexplicable, for nearly a year and a half to attend her father, who was out of his mind, but that they failed to give him any relief. These things are now causing a good deal of talk here in private circles, and I have thought it best to make you aware of the fact."

From that time until the cars left for New York, Perkins was in a state of strong inward excitement. Hurriedly arranging his business for an absence of some weeks, he started for the South late in the afternoon, without communicating to any one the real cause of his sudden movement. After an anxious journey of nearly two weeks, he arrived in New Orleans, and called immediately upon Mr. Paralette, and stated the rumor he had heard. That gentleman seemed greatly surprised, and even startled at the earnestness of the young man, and more particularly so when he learned precisely the relation in which he stood to the daughter of Mr. Ballantine.

"I remember the fact," was his reply. "But then, the young woman was, of course, a mere pretender."

"But how do you know?" urged Mr. Perkins. "Did you take any steps to ascertain the truth of her story?"

"Of course not. Why should I? An old friend of her father's called upon them at the hotel, and saw the man that was attempted to be put off by an artful girl as Mr. Ballantine. But he said the man bore no kind of resemblance to that person. He was old and white-headed. He was in his dotage--a simple old fool--pa.s.sive in the hands of a designing woman."

"Did you see him?"

"No."

"Strange that you should not!" Perkins replied, looking the man steadily in the face. "Bearing the relation that you did to Mr.

Ballantine, it might be supposed that you would have been the first to see the man, and the most active to ascertain the truth or falsity of the story."

"I do not permit any one to question me in regard to my conduct,"

Mr. Paralette said, in an offended tone, turning from the excited young man.

Perkins saw that he had gone too far, and endeavored to modify and apologize: but the merchant repulsed him, and refused to answer any more questions, or to hold any further conversation with him on the subject.

The next step taken by the young man was to seek out his friend, and learn from him all the particular rumors on the subject, and who would be most likely to put him in the way of tracing the individuals he was in search of. But he found, when he got fairly started on the business for which he had come to New Orleans, that he met with but little encouragement. Some shrugged their shoulders, some smiled in his face, and nearly every one treated the matter with a degree of indifference. Many had heard that a person claiming to be Miss Ballantine had sent notes to a few of Mr. Ballantine's old friends about two years previous; but no one seemed to have the least doubt of her being an impostor. A week pa.s.sed in fruitless efforts to awaken any interest, or to create the slightest disposition to inquiry among Mr. B.'s old friends. The story told by the young woman they considered as too improbable to bear upon its face the least appearance of truth.

"Why," was the unanswerable argument of many, "has nothing been heard of the matter since? If that girl had really been Miss Ballantine, and that simple old man her father, do you think we should have heard no more on the subject? The imposition was immediately detected, and the whole matter quashed at once."

Failing to create any interest in the minds of those he had supposed would have been most eager to prosecute inquiry, but led on by desperate hope, Perkins had an advertis.e.m.e.nt inserted in all the city papers, asking the individuals who had presented themselves some eighteen months before as Mr. Ballantine and his daughter, to call upon him at his rooms in the hotel. A week pa.s.sed, but no one responded to the call. He then tried to ascertain the names of the physicians who, it was said, had attended an old man for imbecility of mind, at the request of a daughter who seemed most deeply devoted to him. In this he at length proved successful.

"I did attend such a case," was at last replied to his oft-repeated question.

"Then, my dear sir," said Perkins, in a deeply excited voice, "tell me where they are."

"That, my young friend, is, really out of my power," returned the physician. "It is some time since I visited them."

"What was their name?" asked the young man.

"Glenn, if I recollect rightly."

"Glenn! Glenn!" said Perkins, starting, and then pausing to think.

"Was the daughter a tall, pale, slender girl, with light brown hair?"

"She was. And though living in the greatest seclusion was a woman of refinement and education."

"You can direct me, of course, to the house where they live?"

"I can. But you will not, I presume, find them there. The daughter, when I last saw her, said that she had resolved on taking her father on to Boston, in order to try the effects of the discipline of the Ma.s.sachusetts Insane Hospital upon him, of which she had seen a very favorable report. I encouraged her to go, and my impression is that she is already at the North."

"Glenn! Glenn!" said Perkins, half aloud, and musingly, as the doctor ceased. "Yes! it must be, it is the same! She was often seen visiting Charlestown, and going in the direction of the hospitals.

Yes! yes! It must be she!"

Waiting only long enough in New Orleans to satisfy himself that the persons alluded to by the physician had actually removed from the place where they resided some months before, and with the declared intention of going North, Perkins started home by the quickest route from New Orleans to the North. It was about the middle of February when he arrived in Boston. Among the first he met was Milford, to whom he had written from New Orleans a full account of the reason of his visiting that place so suddenly, and of his failure to discover the persons of whom he was in search.

"My dear friend, I am glad to see you back!" said Milford, earnestly, as he grasped the hand of Perkins. "I wrote you a week ago, but, of course, that letter has not been received, and you are doubtless in ignorance of what has come to my knowledge within the last few days."