Chapter XL: Elsie’s Fortunes

You shall be blessed as once you were with friends, and home, and all That in the exulting joy of love your own you fondly call; Beloved and loving faces that you’ve known so long as well; The dear familiar places where your childish footsteps fell.

It was Saturday night, and Dr. Hardcastle had not yet returned home to supper. The family, except Elsie, had all retired to bed. Elsie had had a very fatiguing day, as most industrious housekeepers must have in bringing the week’s work to a conclusion. Elsie’s work, however, was not yet fully completed, though the family clock was on the stroke of nine, for having gotten through with all the heavy household labor, cleared up the supper-table, put the children to bed, and persuaded her mother to retire to rest, she set the coffee pot and a covered plate and dish to keep hot for Magnus, replenished the fire, drew a little table up before it, and sat down with a large basket of stockings to darn—a couple of dozen of little hose and half a dozen pair of large ones—all to be looked over, and half to be mended. And Elsie, with her usually happy alchemy of turning everything into a subject of congratulation, said to herself that it was very fortunate she had so many stockings to darn, as it made the time pass so much quicker while waiting for Magnus. Yet Elsie was very weary; very well prepared to appreciate the blessings of the Sabbath that makes cessation from work a positive duty. Yes, she was very weary, though the only signs of fatigue she showed were in the deeper flush of her cheek, the brighter light of her eyes, and the clammy moisture of her fair forehead that half uncurled the golden ringlets. The last little stocking was drawn upon her hand, and the bright needle swiftly gliding in and out among the meshes of the last rent, when the quick gallop of a horse into the yard apprised her that her husband had come, and in an instant more the door was thrown open and Dr. Hardcastle entered. Elsie was about to rise and receive him, when something strange and novel in his air and manner arrested her attention, as he said:

“No, do not stir! Sit still, dear Elsie! I want to look at you just as you are a moment.” He threw off his great-coat, drew a chair to her side, seated himself by her, and gazed at her for the space of half a minute. Then he took her hand into his palm, pressed it, and, opening his hand, watched the rosy tide ebb and flow through her still beautiful fingers. “Elsie,” said he, “how long have we been married, dear wife?”

“Eleven years and more,” replied she, looking up inquiringly.

“Do you remember, dear, Judge Wylie’s ball given in honor of your return from school? Do you remember that we had just heard of my changed prospects, and that we knew if we should marry we would have to go forth to a life of toil and self-denial—and do you remember that I took this hand into mine with fear and trembling for its destiny as it lay in my broad, brown palm, a tiny snow-white thing, sparkling with diamonds like icicles on snow, a fairy hand—an ideal hand?”

“Yes, I remember you talked a great deal of poetry about my hand, dear Magnus—and I remember that seeing you loved its beauty so much, I made a rash promise to keep it always beautiful for your sake. I could not do it, dear Magnus. It is not so fair and elegant now as it was then,” said Elsie, smiling, and holding it up.

“But, oh! how much dearer! how much more beloved! Then it was an ideal hand—now it is a human hand, a mother’s hand,” he said, taking it again and pressing it to his lips and bosom, and gazing fondly on her. Then, after a little, he spoke again, saying: “Elsie, dearest, there was another promise which you made, but in my name, and which I tacitly indorsed, yet have failed to perform.”

“Well, dear Magnus?”

“Do you remember the dress you wore upon the memorable occasion of that ball? I do perfectly. I do not know the material of which it was made, but it floated around you as you moved—a soft and radiant mist. And when I spoke of it, bemoaning the fate that would change it for a plain garb such as befitted a poor young doctor’s wife—you smiled hopefully, and promised that in ten years, when I should have ‘achieved greatness,’ you would wear a much richer dress, which should still befit my station—and I indorsed the promise; yet ten years have passed, and I have failed to redeem it. My Elsie still wears coarse clothing, and works from morning till night.”

“Your Elsie is happy, dearest Magnus. And the Princess Charlotte herself, the idol lady of all England, could not say any more. Young people, especially where youth is brightened by such sanguine blood as mine, have too many extravagant hopes—make too many rash promises; I say again, your Elsie is happy, dear Magnus, and if she had the world she could not say more.”

He gazed on her in fond admiration for a little while, and then said:

“Elsie, dearest, there is one thing at least in which we did not promise or expect too much—in which we have not failed to keep our promise—to love each other more and more every year we should live.”

She raised her eyes to his, and he read her answer in their loving glance.

“Well, Elsie,” he said, at last, “you are happy; yet it is not now the hope of better days to come that makes you happy—for more than ten years have passed, and I have not laid by a thousand dollars. So you can scarcely expect now that I shall ever make a fortune by my profession.”

“Well, we make a comfortable living, and shall continue to do so; and as for our dear children, we must educate them to work, as we have done. Let me give you your supper now, Magnus.”

“No—not just yet,” he said, smiling on her hand and pressing it.

“Well, then, let go my hand a minute, till I finish darning little Elsie’s stocking.”

“No! no more work to-night, Elsie,” he said firmly.

“Oh! just let me finish this last stocking; it completes the whole job.”

“No! no more work to-night! No more work ever more for you. The long, long trial you have borne so patiently, so nobly, is over. Elsie! dearest Elsie! fortune has come to us at last.”

Elsie stared at her husband with a look so blank that you could not have told whether she had heard good or bad news—an instant, and then a sudden joy broke over her countenance, and she exclaimed, in a voice of wonder and gladness:

“Fortune! You tell me so, Magnus, and it must be true.”

“Yes, fortune—yet it has come to us through such solemn, not to say tragic, circumstances that our prosperity must be received with a chastened spirit. Listen, dearest Elsie—this evening, as I returned home, I called at the post office and found a letter from Reynolds, who used to do all my Uncle Hardcastle’s law business. By his letter I learned that about five weeks since my unhappy cousin, Lionel, who had just returned from making the tour of Europe with his ward, was instantly killed on Hutton’s Island by the accidental discharge of a pistol. My uncle never recovered from the shock of his death, and he sank gradually until about five days since, when he died, leaving me sole heir to all his property and executor of his will.”

“Alas! Magnus, is it not a sad and grave thought, that no property which we do not make by our own toil ever comes to us except through the death or the misfortunes of others! Alas! Magnus, our prosperity should indeed be received with a very chastened spirit.”

“Yes, sudden riches should be always received with fear and trembling; and when they come by sudden death—with awe!”

Elsie looked down thoughtfully upon her clasped hands and then, after a little while, inquired:

“Well, Magnus! what will be your first movement under these new circumstances?”

“I shall proceed at once to Hemlock Hollow to settle up affairs, and prepare the old hall for the reception of you and the children. And by the time those arrangements are completed the weather will be sufficiently settled to remove them. The only point of difficulty is in the temporary disposition of my professional business. I scarcely know what to do with my patients. I wish Hugh would return and take charge of the practice for a few weeks during my absence, or until the people could get another physician to settle among them.”

“It is quite time that we had heard from Hugh. But, dear Magnus, has this sudden news quite deprived you of your appetite?” said Elsie, rising and putting away her basket of work.

“No—oh, no, dearest! Give me my supper.”

Elsie’s nimble hands quickly laid the cloth, and spread the little supper. Magnus drew up his chair, and Elsie had just poured out his coffee when the quick gallop of a horse up to the house, followed by a loud knocking at the door, arrested their attention. Magnus went to answer the summons, and in another instant Hugh Hutton entered. “Why, Hugh!” exclaimed Dr. Hardcastle and his wife in one breath.

“Come in! Come in! We are so glad to see you! But where on earth did you come from? How did you come? You did not come by the stage this afternoon, for I was at the stage office myself when it came in,” said Dr. Hardcastle.

“No; I missed the coach at the last station, and had to hire a horse to bring me hither. But how do you all do?” said Hugh, shaking hands with both.

“Well, very well! But you, Hugh, how is it with you?” asked Dr. Hardcastle, glancing at his black suit.

“I may reply in your own words—‘Well, very well!’ You got my letter?”

“Yes.”

“Well, friends, it was a bitter blow to me, but I believe now it was dealt in mercy to her. You have heard from Hemlock Hollow.”

“Yes—but only this evening.”

“And what do you intend to do?”

“To go on there immediately and prepare for the removal of my family as soon as the weather permits. But, come, Hugh—come, here is supper. See, Elsie has already set your plate and knife and fork and poured out your coffee.”

“What! have you really not supped yet?”

“I have not! Draw up.”

The conversation at supper turned upon the affairs of Hemlock Hollow, Point Pleasant, Huttontown, and its neighborhood. Yet there was a studious avoidance of the subject of Mount Calm and Garnet Seabright, until the cloth was removed, and Dr. Hardcastle arose with the evident intention of showing his guest to his chamber.

Then Hugh made a sign to his host to take his seat, and resumed his own, saying: “Well, my dear friends, you have inquired after everybody in our old neighborhood except my fair young hostess, Miss Seabright of Mount Calm; and yet one would think that she would interest you more than all.”

Hugh paused for a reply, and looked at them both. Elsie’s brow crimsoned, and she turned away. Dr. Hardcastle looked very grave, and remained silent.

“If you knew Miss Seabright personally you would admire her very much. She is the most superbly beautiful woman I ever saw—of the brunette order, I mean,” he added, bowing and smiling toward Mrs. Hardcastle, who averted her face with a heightened color. “Yes, she is certainly the most splendidly beautiful brunette I ever saw—and with a soul, too, more beautiful than its shrine.”

Still Elsie averted her head, and Dr. Hardcastle continued gravely silent.

“You do not answer me,” said Hugh perseveringly.

“Hugh, my dear boy, Elsie and myself love and admire you sufficiently. Do not insist upon our loving and admiring your friend, Miss Seabright. Under all the circumstances it is quite too great a task for human nature.”

“Yet,” said Hugh—and his voice faltered, and the tears swam in his eyes—“yet last week I was the instrument in the hands of Providence in setting a far greater task than that to human nature, sir! And not to nature, well-disciplined human nature like yours, but to young, ardent, impetuous human nature—and I saw, through tears and groans, and writhings of the spirit, that task accomplished. What should you think of a young girl endowed with great wealth, peerless beauty, graces and accomplishments—fitted in every way to adorn the highest circles of society—a girl, besides, of high self-appreciation—of great ambition—of adventurous enterprise—whose head and heart were busy with a hundred grand and glorious plans of life—what, I ask you, should you think of such a girl, in such circumstances, giving up her wealth, her rank, her splendid plans and prospects, her soul’s most cherished expectations and desires for the sake of simple, abstract justice?”

“I should think that such a noble girl was worthy of a king’s worship, or rather of a hero’s love. But it is impossible! No girl would ever do this,” said Dr. Hardcastle, turning and gazing at Hugh with wonder.

“Will you please to look over these documents,” said Hugh, drawing a packet of papers from his great-coat pocket and laying them on the table.

“The title deeds of Mount Calm, and legally conveyed to Alice Chester Garnet by Garnet Seabright!” exclaimed Dr. Hardcastle, examining them. Then he laid the documents down, squared himself round, placed his hands upon his knees, and, staring full into the face of Hugh, said: “Hugh! what the d——, I never swore in my life! Don’t make me begin now! But what the deuce does all this mean?”

“You see what it means. Miss Seabright, having come of age, and feeling that she has no just right to the Mount Calm estate, conveys it to its original owner, Mrs. Garnet!”

Elsie suddenly clasped her hands, and bent forward with flushed cheeks and open lips.

Dr. Hardcastle continued his fixed, broad stare, until Hugh exclaimed:

“God bless all our souls, Magnus Hardcastle, you are not the only noble specimen of God’s workmanship on earth. There are others capable of magnanimity besides Magnus—even the young girl, Garnet Seabright!”

“Garnet! She is a diamond of the first water. Is it possible that this should be so? I can scarcely credit the testimony of my eyes and ears! That Miss Seabright, as soon as she reached her majority, should have given up her estate. Oh! it must have been a mere impulse of youthful enthusiasm. She could not have known the value of money and property—and, besides, you must have used great powers of persuasion with her.”

“No—you are wrong in every point. It was not enthusiasm. All her enthusiasm was enlisted on the other side, in favor of social distinction, for which she considered wealth indispensable. Nor was she ignorant of the value of money. No, enlightened by experiences in the extremes of, first poverty and afterward wealth, this girl of twenty-one had as accurate a knowledge of the value of money and property as any miser, beggar, or banker of forty-two. Nor was it without a struggle she resigned the estate. Most terrible indeed was the battle in her soul before Justice subdued Ambition. Nor was it through my persuasion that she made this glorious sacrifice to right. No; no mere words of mine could have subdued that towering pride, governed that aspiring ambition. No; I simply set the truth before her, and then let it work its way. No; I set the truth before her, and then I might have gone to Patagonia or Bering Strait, and the result would have been the same. She would never have known an hour’s peace until she had restored the property, at whatever sacrifice to her pride and ambition.”

Here Elsie broke forth, exclaiming:

“Oh! what a noble girl! Oh! I love and admire her so much. I do think if I were in mother’s place now I should be Quixotic enough to convey the whole estate back again to her. At least, I know I would make her take back half of it. My heart burns toward that noble girl, and I feel half ashamed that we should benefit by her magnanimity. I feel as if by her giving and our receiving so much that she is more noble than we are.”

“Yes, yes! She is indeed a noble, a wonderful girl!” exclaimed Dr. Hardcastle.

“And this noble, this wonderful girl,” said Hugh, with his cheeks and eyes kindling with pride and joy—“this glorious girl is going to be my wife! Congratulate me, dear friends!” he suddenly exclaimed, impulsively thrusting out a hand to each.

“Going to be your wife? I am so glad,” exclaimed Elsie, pressing his left hand.

“Going to be your wife? Why, then, dear Hugh, this great sacrifice is fully as much yours as hers—since what was hers would have been yours,” said Dr. Hardcastle, shaking his right hand.

“Never mind that; only wish me joy.”

“We do! We do! with all our hearts,” said Elsie, clasping his hand again. “But when are you going to be married, Hugh?”

“Next Thursday four weeks. Having deprived Nettie of all her wealth I must take her as soon as possible under my legal protection, unsettled as I am, and trust God with the result. Yes, next Thursday four weeks; that will give you time to prepare to come to Mount Calm, which, having been just handsomely fitted up for the reception of Miss Seabright, on her return from Europe, is in a proper condition to receive your family. Miss Seabright will remain at Mount Calm until our marriage, which will take place there. We wish you to arrive at or before our wedding day, that when we leave the mansion house we may leave you in possession.”

“Hugh, we are not, of course, authorized to promise anything in the name of Mrs. Garnet, who is at this moment ignorant of Miss Seabright’s magnanimity; but—I would she were here to answer for herself.”

Here the clock struck twelve, and Dr. Hardcastle, lighting another candle, said:

“Friends, it is Sunday morning. Let us waive the discussion of worldly matters for to-day. Hugh, you know your chamber. Good-night!”