Chapter V: Home in the Stable Loft

"THIS is only a stable, Miss Marion."

"The place must be here, Hepsey: the number three hundred and sixty is plainly marked."

The young lady reverted to her paper again.

"'Esther Cole, three hundred sixty.' Three hundred fifty-eight, the last house is marked. I must inquire."

One of the hostlers came forward to the door of the stable.

"Do you want a carriage, lady?"

"I am looking for a number which ought to be here."

"Is it a tenement house you're after, ma'am?"

"Yes, and a family by the name of Cole."

"It's aloft their house is. Walk right through ma'am, to the ladder beyont."

"Thank you," replied Marion, giving him a smile which quite won him. "How very clear your floor is! I was never in a stable before. Look, Hepsey! See how nicely the carriages are covered; and really there is quite a pretty parlor,—and such a row of whips hanging up."

"That room is for ladies and gentlemen to wait while their horses are harnessed, ma'am." The hostler was doing the honors in his best style. They had now reached the ladder, as he called it by which they were to ascend to the room "aloft," and he said, "It's a poor place, ma'am, for a lady the likes of yees."

"It's a heathenish place," retorted Hepsey "Not fit for Christians to live in. Are you sure, young man, that the steps are safe?"

He laughed merrily, exhibiting a row of even white teeth.

"If it's afraid ye are, ma'am," he explained, looking at Marion, "sure I'll bring 'em all down to yees,—every mother's son of 'em."

"Oh, no, indeed! We will go up. Many thanks for your courtesy."

Her face was all dimpled with smiles as she prepared to mount the steps, while the hostler walked away, saying to himself,—

"A rale lady that is. The man that owns her must be a happy one."

At the top of the steps a door opened into a large room rudely partitioned off from the hayloft and smelling strongly of the fumes from the stable below. Seven people called this room their home,— father, mother, grandmother, and four children of different ages under eight years. Unlike many who live in more spacious apartments, their hearts were larger than their home, and they had recently welcomed a poor waif thrown upon the cold charities of the world.

Esther Sims was an orphan who had been connected with the mission Sunday and sewing schools in which Miss Howard was interested. This lady had never considered her very intelligent, but she had a pretty face, with childish features, and an appealing glance in her deep, gray eyes which made her many friends. Marion had lost sight of her for more than a year, and only the day before her visit to the stable learned her sad story.

Not being very happy in the family where one of the mission-school teachers had placed her, she was easily persuaded to leave it for employment in a cigar factory. There she formed the acquaintance of a young fellow by the name of Cole, and soon after was married to him. If she had taken to heart the instructions of her faithful teacher, she would have distrusted the principles of a man whose first act in connection with her was deceit.

As they were both infants in the eye of the law, Esther being but sixteen, and her husband to be but eighteen, the clergyman refused to perform the ceremony unless one of the parents, was present and wished it. Leaving her sitting on the steps to the house, he hurried off, and soon returned with a woman who said she was his mother, and who declared her willingness for her bye to be married.

They were married, and young Cole took his wife home to a house where he had lodgings, where they had many a laugh about the ease with which he had found a mother in his emergency, he having given the woman twenty-five cents to personate such an individual.

Esther's character was so yielding that she got along for a few months without much trouble. She never knew what her husband's business was, and often wondered why it kept him so long into the night. At last he began to abuse her, and grew so irritable that she begged to be taken back to her old place in the cigar factory, where, at least, she had kept herself from starving. Now young Cole had been arrested for burglary, tried, and sentenced to prison for three years, and Esther, innocent, ignorant even of his ever having committed crime, was suspected of being connected with the plot.

Even Hepsey, who tried to harden her heart against pity, having been so often deceived, was affected by the utter abandonment to grief of the young girl. She was sitting on a bed of straw, with a child of her sister-in-law across her lap, her head fallen forward on her breast, her tears falling on the sleeping babe's face, seemingly unconscious of the presence of any one.

"She's just gone daft with her trouble, poor thing," explained the woman, as she saw the eyes of her visitors fastened on the child-wife.

It was difficult to rouse her from her grief. When addressed, she looked up frightened, supposing officers had come to take her to jail. Then, recognizing Miss Howard's kind face, she asked, piteously,—

"Will they keep me in prison long?"

Mrs. Cole took the babe from her arms, explaining, "I thought maybe 't would divert her thoughts," and then went on to say that Jo, her husband's brother, had always been a bad boy. He had no business to deceive a young girl, and get married when he had no home. That Esther was steady and honest, and was never up to knowing his wicked goings-on. Then she touched her head and pointed to the poor girl in a significant manner. "As to the robbery, she's as innocent of it as a babe unborn."

No one could doubt it who witnessed the appealing glance in those wondering eyes; at least Miss Howard did not, but she could not at once decide what course to pursue to clear the child from the suspicion of crime. Having ascertained that Mrs. Cole was willing to keep her for a few days, Miss Howard put a sum of money into her hands, and, promising to do what she could, took her leave.

"She's no more guilty than I am," exclaimed Hepsey, indignantly. "That woman thinks she isn't bright, but it's only because she's been cowed down and abused till she darsn't say her soul is her own. I remember her when she was as tidy and spry as the best of 'em."

"Why, Hepsey, where did you ever see her?"

"At the sewing school, ma'am, where I used to go in yer place while yer was in Grantbury; and Esther Sims, as they called her then, was the most respectful and the best behaved of the whole class."

"Hepsey, do you think she could be trained by kindness to be a good servant?" Marion's voice was abrupt in her earnestness.

"Indeed I do, ma'am. To be sure, it would take time, but it would be a deed o' mercy, and like as not be the saving of her soul."

"Well, my dear, good Hepsey, you have helped me through a great many difficulties. If we can get the poor child away from her surroundings, you shall have the chance to try and save her."

Hepsey was startled. This was rather beyond what she had thought of. Presently she asked, abruptly,—

"What will she do with her thief of a husband?"

"She must be made absolutely free from him, of course. I will take advice about it."

"I suppose you're thinking of yer own home in the country, ma'am, and that is where I'm to train her," added Hepsey, with a sly glance into her young mistress's face.

A rosy blush was the only reply.

While Marion was hesitating to whom she should apply for advice in regard to poor Esther, Mr. Mitchell came home. He assured her that by the laws of the State the husband's incarceration in prison rendered the wife free from the marriage tie. He also comforted her by saying, that even if Esther were arrested, unless some one appeared against her, the case could not be carried on. Marion, however, with the recollection of the child's look of terror at the very thought of being arrested, was determined to prevent it if possible.

Suddenly recalling to mind Mr. Lambert's promise to aid her in her works of charity, she sent James to his house to request him to call at his earliest convenience.

When he came, which was almost immediately she was struck with a change in his appearance; and inquired, anxiously,—

"Are you ill, sir?"

"What makes you ask that? I'm in rollicking health and spirits."

She doubted it, however, for even while talking with her he seemed to fall into fits of revery.

"What a fool she was to marry so young!' he said, with a sneer; "but, as you say, that can't be helped now. My advice is, let him go to—anywhere that will keep him out of her way. But what is to be done with the child?"

"I think Hepsey means to take her," replied Marion, showing all her dimples. "I hope she can be got off without going to court."

"Hepsey, hem! Well, never fear. I'll see the judge and settle that. If he won't believe my word, I'll make him go to the stable, mount the ladder, and see for himself."

He leaned back in his chair, laughing heartily but Marion noticed that there was no ring of mirth in his laugh.

Suddenly she said, "O Mr. Lambert! Are you acquainted with Mr. Regy? I hear of him everywhere among the poor, and I long to see him."

"Better not," he grumbled. "Take my word for it, he is a good-for-nothing fellow. I know him well."

"You must be prejudiced, Mr. Lambert. His heart is just as warm as yours; indeed, in many things he must be like you: he delights to relieve suffering and he delights to—to—what shall I call it?"

"Call it abuse; that's the right name. He's a hard-shelled old sinner. He tries to salve his conscience by giving away what he don't want. Keep clear of him, as you would of the plague. Now I must be going, or I sha'n't see that judge."