CHAPTER XIII.
Twofold agony—Dr. Goodrich's promise—Home Again—Lilly Foot—The Convalescent—The Neighborhood Wedding—News from Chimney Rock—The Sherman Family at the West.
dward Sherman was still where we left him, listening graciously to the pretended good wishes of Hank Glutter, when Dr. Goodrich, who happened to pass that way, saw him through the window and beckoned him out side.
"I expected to have met you at Dr. DeWolf's," said he, "and I brought a letter for you."
Edward took the letter and read it carefully through, turning very pale as he did so. It was from his sister Louise, and contained a brief account of the dangerous illness of his mother, with a request for his immediate presence at home. His extreme paleness and the trembling hand, with which he in silence offered the open sheet for the Doctor's persual were all the outward sign of his soul's agony; agony for a beloved and dying mother; agony for the beloved, lost one, for whom, in company with a few friends, he was about to go in quest.
While the Doctor was running over the communication, Edward tried to calm the surging tempest within, sufficiently to decide him how to act.
"Doctor," said he, "I must go to mother, can you, I know it will be difficult, but can you take my place in the company to-morrow?"
"I will go, and, by the love I bear your sister, I promise to do what I can."
"Let me hear from you by mail," said Edward, wringing his hand.
Edward had now barely time to return to Pendleton, and hastily get his trunk in readiness for the forthcoming steamer.
At the sound of the bell he was ready to embark and a few days rapid travelling brought him worn and weary to the old homestead. It was evening when he arrived, and, as he approached the house, he saw a light in his mother's room. His apprehensions were so great that he had not the courage to enter, and, listening near the window, he distinguished his mother's voice in conversation with Louise.
"I would not be surprised to see him this very evening," he heard his sister say.
"Miss Louise," called out Recta's familiar voice. "Miss Louise, won't you please come here quick. Old Spot has got into the front yard; there she is nibbling at that rose bush under the window. I can't see nothing but the white spot in her face; but I know it must be her, she's such an unruly critter; won't you just hold the light while I hist her out?"
"O where's Lilly Foot," said Louise, "she'll drive her out while you open the gate. Here, Lilly Foot."
Lilly Foot came growling along from the vicinity of the barn, where, after the fatigue of bringing the cows from the distant meadow, she had gone to rest and recruit for night watching.
Having forgotten at the beginning of our story to introduce Lilly Foot under the family head we will pause for a moment and give her the notice to which her position and worth entitle her. She was a very respectable looking animal of the canine species originally coal black with the exception of one white foot, from which she derived her name, but now grown grey in the service of the family.
From puppyhood to old age, this faithful creature had made it her daily business to keep the cows, sheep, pigs, and poultry each in their proper places, and, having been raised on a quiet, orderly New England farm, had never in the course of her whole life, had occasion to perform more onerous nightly duties than to sleep with one eye open; consequently, she had come to consider regular rest as her lawful right, and was in no mood to bear the present encroachment.
"I believe the dog is getting old and cross," said Recta in a voice very like that which had occasioned her censure. "Here Lilly Foot, there's Old Spot; take her."
The words had scarcely left Recta's lips before Lilly Foot saw and flew violently at the object indicated,
"Lilly Foot."
They all heard—Edward's voice that came from the rose bush, and it would be difficult to say from which of the three, Louise, Recta, or Lilly Foot, he received the warmest greeting.
Mrs. Sherman had passed the crisis, of her disease, and Edward, assured of her convalesence, sought her bedside with a buoyant step.
"My dear son, to have you here is all the medicine I need now," she said, as she held him to her bosom.
The first greetings over, Edward's unnatural strength produced by anxiety and excitement gave way, and he lay down to rest that night prostrated in body and mind.
Confused images of his mother, Little Wolf, and Bloody Jim crowded his unquiet dreams, and he awoke in the morning comparatively unrefreshed, and the old load in his bosom but little lightened. Soon after breakfast he signified his intention of riding over to the Post Office, two miles distant.
"O no," said his sister playfully, "mother will be disappointed; she expects to have you all to herself this morning. I made it a point to go for the mail every day until she was taken sick. Let me go this time, I really need a horseback ride. If I get a letter for you, you shall have it in just fifteen minutes."
"From now?"
"No; from the time I get it."
"I am overruled," laughed Edward, and he went to his mother's room. Scarcely had he seated himself when Mrs. Sherman enquired,
"Has Dr. DeWolf's daughter been found yet, Edward?"
"No, mother."
"How dreadful! Dr. Goodrich said in his last letter he had but little hope of seeing her alive. I was gratified to hear that you were in pursuit, and that you were situated so you could do your father's old friend a favor. I wish you would tell me the particulars of the sad affair."
Mrs. Sherman wondered at Edward's prolonged silence, as he sat there utterly unable to say a word. She was beginning to have a vague conception of the truth, when he turned to her and said in a voice which the effort to control rendered scarcely audible.
"Mother, I expected to have made Miss De Wolf my wife. I can not talk about it now."
But Mrs. Sherman led him gently on by means which true mothers know so well how to use, to unburden his heart, and ere long her sympathy ran so high as to propose that he should return to Minnesota, and if need he should return to Minnesota, and if need be spend the winter there.
"If I could take you and Louise with me," said he.
Just then Louise came, in high spirits.
"O mother," said she, "you must hurry and get well in time to attend Maria Dole's wedding. I met her going to shop. She wants me to be one of her bridesmaids. Now guess who she is going to marry; but of course you'd never guess for you are not acquainted with the gentleman; so I may as well toll you at once; John Hanford, from the wilds of Minnesota. Maria says she is afraid of being carried off by the bears, but still too willing to venture a home in the woods for her dear Johnny's sake. I did not tell her about Dr. DeWolf's daughter, I was afraid it would stop the wedding, Maria is such a timid creature. Brother, do tell me about that horrible affair."
"Tell her mother," said Edward and immediately left the room.
While Mrs. Sherman was explaining the matter, Edward was walking up and down the lawn in front of the house, vainly considering the probabilities of a favorable termination of his troubles.
"What can we do for poor Edward?" said Louise, after a long silence, "I think he ought to go back."
"He was saying when you came in if he could only take you and me."
"Well why not?" said Louise eagerly, "I am sure if you keep on getting well as rapidly as you have for a few days you'll be about the house in a week."
"When we hear from Dr. Goodrich, my dear, we shall be better able to decide what is best for us to do."
"Then all we can do is to wait in patience."
Wait they did for over a week before the looked-for intelligence arrived, and the following is the contents of Dr. Goodrich's letter.
"Dear Sherman. All our efforts have proved unavailing. We could not find the least clue to aid us in our search. I am now inclined to think that Miss DeWolf has voluntarily secreted herself until such times as she hopes to return unmolested by Bloody Jim, whom, if my conjectures are correct, she no doubt thinks still at large. As for Bloody Jim his lips are forever closed. In attempting to escape from prison last evening he was shot dead.
I learn with pleasure from your letter which I have just received, that your mother's health is rapidly improving. Take courage Ned, the same hand that restored one loved one can also restore the other. You say you must return. Why not bring your mother and sister with you? A change of climate would no doubt benefit both. I think there will be time for you to come before navigation closes. The weather continues splendid. I am now at Dr. DeWolf's. He is worse again; I think he cannot last long. He is literally drinking himself to death. Mrs. Hawley still attends on him. Sorrel Top and daddy do not get along very well together, but between them the Doctor's house is well cared for.
If it will be any comfort to you I will say that I have sanguine expectations of again seeing Miss DeWolf safe at home,
Yours with more sympathy than I can express.
G. Goodrich."
Louise received a letter from the same hand, but it being an entirely private affair we can only speculate upon its contents. Doubtless among other things there were unanswerable arguments in favor of a western trip, for when the reading was over, she was the first one to say.
"I think we had all better get ready as soon as we can and start for Minnesota."
Edward being of the same mind, and Mrs. Sherman willing to gratify her children, it was not many days before the arrangments were all made for the journey. Recta and Lilly Foot were to be left in sole charge of the house; the tenant having promised the assistance of one of his sons when required.
The wedding ceremony of John Hanford and Maria Dole having been performed the evening previous to their departure, they traveled in company with the bridal pair.
Maria Dole was the only daughter of a neighboring farmer, and the two girls had from childhood been on intimate terms, and Louise had hoped some day to call her sister; but she loved the gentle girl none the less for the step she had taken, and Edward's regard for her seemed to have suddenly increased. The conduct of her husband who was a bashful soul, exceedingly shy, and sparing of his husbandly attentions, gave Edward frequent opportunities during their trip of cultivating a more familiar acquaintance with her than he had ever imagined possible.
"Some women appear to better advantage after marriage and Maria Dole is one of them," he said in a very decided manner to his sister after having been engaged in a long conversation with the newly-made wife. "She can converse now and she never could before."
"Yon mean, brother, you were afraid of each other before. It was my fault; you both knew what my wishes were, and it spoiled all. To have carried out the romance of the thing, you ought to have discovered her perfections before it was too late."
Louise quite forgot for the moment her brother's affliction, but on second thought said no more.
"I am sorry Mr. Hanford is going to take her so far from any settlement," said Edward, not appearing to notice what had been said, "he tells me his nearest neighbor is ten miles distant."
"How lonely Maria will be, I'm glad we are all to visit her in the Spring," said Louise, alluding to a promise made to that effect.
"Mr. Hanford rather insists upon my going out with them now, but I could not promise until I had seen the Doctor. If I decide to go I can overtake him by the next steamer, as he will stop for a day or two at St. Paul."
The next day after the above conversation, the party having arrived at Pendleton, separated; Mr. and Mrs. Hanford continuing up the river to the head of navigation, while the Sherman family were introduced to comfortable quarters provided by the forethought of Dr. Goodrich.
By the advice of his friends, who plainly saw, that under the circumstances, he could not content himself to remain where he was, Edward decided to join Mr. Hanford at St. Paul, and the following chapter will chronicle the result.
