Hilda's Mascot Part 2

Jerusha craved no prominence in that line. It was only the force of necessity that made her willing to be self-supporting through the only work she could do well. She was too impatient and irritable to teach her craft to others. She could not direct, nor could she endure to have about her, helpers for whose mistakes she would be responsible. She had felt herself alone all her life and expected to remain so.

During these years Diana Strong had finished her training as a professional nurse and was recommended by the hospital physicians as one of the best.

More than once she had charge of an invalid in a wealthy home where Jerusha happened to be employed; they took their meals at the same table, but the subject of former acquaintance was a tabooed theme with Jerusha, and Diana was too amiable to go counter to her wishes.

Every season that Jerusha went to Dorton she grew more anxious to abide there, and her gaze rested frequently upon a deserted brown frame dwelling of four rooms about a mile out of the village. It had not been tenanted for years, and was fast going to decay, but Jerusha saw that a few dollars spent upon it would convert it into a home, and a home was the greatest longing of her heart.

She mentioned the subject to Horace several times during his apprentices.h.i.+p, but he evinced no enthusiasm upon the subject. He was well satisfied with Baltimore and his asylum acquaintances there, and saw no need of change.

But, as was the rule where Jerusha was concerned, she had her way, and after Horace was free to go and she had secured employment for him through her patrons at Dorton, they took up their residence in the little brown house.

Jerusha had bargained that they should have it rent free for three years providing they made all necessary repairs. To this the owner agreed, and also to allow them for a nominal rent the large plot of ground back of it for a garden. At all leisure times the saw and hammer of Horace could be heard, paint and lime were not spared, and flowers sprang up at the touch of Jerusha, who at last had a home of her own.

The short distance from it to the railway station, and the few miles of car ride to the city enabled them to have employment at both ends of the line, and if there was ever a moment in Jerusha's life when she could consider herself contented, it was when after each day's absence she came in sight of the brown dwelling.

Seasons had come and gone, and Jerusha, who never before had known attachment to person or place, was one evening sitting with Horace on the moon-lighted porch, after a busy day in the city. She was discussing further improvements, the only subject which was of interest to both, but to which Horace that evening lent but an absent-minded attention.

"Jerusha," he said, as he arose to retire, "I am to be married to-morrow to one who was in the orphan asylum with us. Her name, as you will remember, is now Jennie Strong, and she is the widow of Diana Strong's brother. I shall bring her here."

He closed the door and Jerusha was alone with her astonishment and her anger.

CHAPTER II-HILDA'S AUNT ASHLEY

Miss Jerusha Flint was not the only one who appreciated the home of Dr.

and Mrs. Lattinger, in Dorton. Not only the villagers, but people of the surrounding neighborhood had a warm feeling for the genial and hospitable residents of the old colonial mansion, which had been for generations in the family of Mrs. Lattinger, and where she had lived all her life. The Lattingers had also frequent visitors from Baltimore, where the doctor had spent the early years of his practice, some of them being former patients who came out for the day for change of air and scene.

One pleasant morning in June, Dr. Lattinger had the unexpected pleasure of a visit from a former college chum, a lawyer who had a short time before bought one of the pretty suburban homes, and, as was the doctor's custom, he took him upon his round among his patients.

"Yes, doctor," commented the visitor, when about noon they were returning to the village, on the same drive upon which they had set out, but in an opposite direction, "you are correct in your opinion of this region of country; it is prosperous and beautiful. There are so many picturesque spots. For instance that cottage nearly covered with ivy, which we are about to pa.s.s, is a picture in itself."

"Yes, it is the home of an artist, Norman Ashley, who, with his wife, came here from Baltimore that he might have natural scenery for his pictures. They are handsome young people and live an ideal life."

"That lovely little girl amid the roses on the lawn is, I suppose, their daughter."

"No, she is Hilda Brinsfield, the orphan niece of Mr. Ashley."

"Hilda Brinsfield!" echoed the gentleman in surprise. "My wife and I were wondering only yesterday what became of that sweet child after the death of her lovely young mother."

"Then you are acquainted with her parents?" said Dr. Lattinger with interest.

"Only for the little time I have lived in my present home. Her father, Rev. Freeman Brinsfield, was pastor of our village church, his first charge. I heard incidentally that his means had been exhausted in his college and theological course, and he was very grateful for the call.

My friend also added that he came of a long line of ministers, one or more of them being pioneer missionaries. Little Hilda is a child of prayer and has the promise of being cared for."

"She certainly has a happy home with the Ashleys, who come as near idolizing her as Christian people will allow themselves to wors.h.i.+p anything earthly. The three pa.s.s most of this beautiful June weather in the open, Mr. Ashley taking his artist equipments, Mrs. Ashley a book and a basket of luncheon, and Hilda her doll and toys, and in the shady woods or blossoming orchard they encamp."

"Truly an ideal life; and now tell me who lives in that handsome villa just above it, but on the opposite side of the road?"

"That is the residence of Miss Anna Ashburton, and is called 'My Lady's Manor,' for as you probably know, most country homes in 'Maryland, My Maryland' have names, generally pretty well adapted to their appearance.

It was left to her by a widow-Mrs. Joshua Farnsworth-who died a few months ago. They were not the least related, but loved each other as mother and daughter."

"Had Mrs. Joshua Farnsworth no relatives to whom she could leave her property, or who would contend for it?"

"No, her only near relative-her sister-the widow of the late Judge Lacy, of Springfield, Ohio, is wealthy, has no children, and has no need of what Mrs. Farnsworth gave to her foster daughter."

"Miss Anna is elderly, I presume?"

"No, scarcely eighteen, is amiable and attractive, finely educated, a musician and artist; an orphan without a relative in the world, so far as is known."

"But she does not live alone in that great mansion?"

"Yes, with the exception of a middle-aged woman-Miss Jerusha Flint-who lived with her brother, Horace, and his family in the brown cottage we pa.s.sed this morning, about a mile beyond the other end of the village, and who was more than gratified when Miss Anna invited her to make her home at 'My Lady's Manor.'"

"They must live a lonely life there."

"Not at all. Miss Anna is much beloved, and has many visitors, not only from the neighborhood, but from Baltimore. Moreover, the servants, who have known and loved her from babyhood, have their comfortable quarters back of the mansion, and as Miss Anna's library and sleeping-room windows look directly down upon the doors of their cabins, Lois, Phebe and Judy are at all hours of the day and night within call."

"It is not likely that Miss Anna, being young and attractive, will remain long unmarried."

"If the opinion of the neighborhood be correct, she will in the near future bestow her hand and heart upon Mr. Valentine Courtney-the brother-in-law of our good pastor Rev. Carl Courtney, of 'Friedenheim,'

the old homestead of the Courtneys. He is a lawyer, has his office in Baltimore, but makes his home at 'Friedenheim.' He is one of the most useful and liberal members of his brother-in-law's church, and is in every respect an estimable young man."

"You say 'brother-in-law'-and yet the Rev. Carl is a Courtney."

"Yes, he is a distant relative of his wife, and of her brother, Valentine, and his home from childhood has been at 'Friedenheim,' which was inherited by Mrs. Courtney."

"That walk upon the roof of Miss Anna's villa must give a fine view of the surrounding country."

"Fine indeed, and it has a history, and a mystery. About twenty-five years ago, Mr. Joshua Farnsworth died there, it is believed, by an unknown hand."

"In what manner?" asked his visitor, full of interest.

"As I was informed by my wife and others of the residents of the neighborhood, Mr. Farnsworth, who was in his usual excellent health the evening of his death, had gone to the village postoffice, and while perusing a letter just received, a hand was laid upon his shoulder by a stranger, who said in a low tone, 'Joshua!'

"Mr. Farnsworth turned very pale, the two went out, and walked to 'My Lady's Manor,' talking earnestly. Later in the evening they were seen upon the roof, seated upon the bench that lines the ironwork bal.u.s.trade, still engaged in earnest conversation, and a few hours after, the villagers were shocked to hear that Mr. Farnsworth was found there, dead, and the stranger gone, no one knew when nor where."

"But was there no investigation as to the cause of his death?"

"Yes, and the verdict at the inquest was death from heart failure; but those who witnessed the meeting at the postoffice, and the villagers who saw them on the walk upon the roof believe that the stranger took his life."

"And you say that no one knew how and when the stranger left the place?"

"No. Judge and Mrs. Lacy were visiting there at the time. They and Mrs.

Farnsworth had retired, as had the servants, all the doors and windows were locked for the night and the shutters closed; and thus they were found when about midnight search was made for Mr. Farnsworth. Not a footfall had been heard, or sound of any kind giving token of the departure of the stranger. It was, and has remained a mystery."