The Gold Brick

by Ann S. Stephens

CHAPTER XIX.
MRS. MASON LEAVES THE PINE WOODS.

At last, Mrs. Mason announced that the expected letter had arrived, with money for her expenses to the South—she never told the exact locality—and that she and little Rose would set forth at once, taking the steamboat from New Haven to New York, where her passage southward was already engaged.

All this was very magnificent and almost startling, but corroborated by a supply of money which the widow evidently possessed, and by the disposition of her little household furniture, which she distributed among her friends with the careless prodigality of a princess.

The preparations for her departure went on spiritedly. With nothing to prepare; for all her new mourning dresses, she announced, were to be made in New York; it was only packing a small trunk, and taking leave of the old neighbors, and she was ready with little Rose to go forth into her new life. A neighbor had been engaged to take her to town in a dashing, one horse wagon, which he had just bought, and in this way the whole arrangement promised to go off with the eclat which the widow Mason always affected.

Thus time passed until the night before her journey. The furniture had not yet been removed, and every thing retained the old homelike aspect; from any appearance of confusion that existed, you would have fancied that the mistress of the house was only going out for a morning drive. She seemed rather elated than otherwise, and received her friends with half royal condescension, not absolutely offensive, but calculated to check the honest grief with which old neighbors parted on those days when a household was breaking up. Many kind wishes were, however, exchanged, little presents were brought in, such as patchwork holders, work bags, and pincushions, besides a pair of fine, lambs' wool mittens, knitted by the oldest woman in the town, was presented to her with a gentle message of farewell, followed by various other trifles, calculated to appeal eloquently to a kind heart. All these, the widow received with concealed and smiling indifference, thinking in her soul how paltry such things were to a person of her expectations.

But little Rose made up for all her mother's lack of feeling. She was broken-hearted at the thought of leaving her playmates, burst into tears when the old people patted her on the head, and refused to be comforted by all the promises of grandeur which were whispered in her ear, either by her mother or her friends.

That night—after the neighbors had gone away, and Rose was in bed hugging a home-made doll which one of the little girls had brought her—a boy who had been kept late with his lessons, climbed softly over the door yard fence. He was afraid that the gate would creak, and disturb the family if Rose should be in bed; so with a long string of robins' eggs held in one hand, he leaped into the grass and stole softly up to one of the front windows. A corner of the paper blind was turned up by the back of a chair which it had fallen against, and through this opening, our little adventurer saw clearly into the room. First, he looked for Rose, the object of his juvenile idolatry; but her little chair was empty, and her tiny morocco shoes and red worsted stockings lay in a heap on the seat, sure proofs that she had gone to bed.

This was a sad disappointment to the lad, but he soon forgot it in the surprise which followed. Mrs. Mason and some strange man were sitting by a work table, which stood near the window. A tallow candle shed its light on the widow's face, but the man sat with his back to the window, his features all in deep shadow. His hand was extended half over the table, clutching a quantity of gold or silver coins, the boy could not tell which, for gold money he had never seen, and the pieces that escaped between the man's fingers, and fell ringing on the table, might have been Spanish quarters, or guineas, for aught he knew. At any rate, that great handful of money seemed a marvellous sum to him, and when Mrs. Mason received it in her two hands, he wondered that she did not jump for joy. But instead of this, she took a variegated work bag from the table drawer, poured the money into it with some smiling remark, and crossing the room, unlocked her trunk and placed the bag in one corner.

While she was thus occupied, the lad observed a strange looking box upon the table, which the person still sitting there had opened. A bright flash came out of the box, as if something had struck fire within. Mrs. Mason came back to the table. She had taken off her mourning dress, replacing it with a black silk skirt and dimity short gown, with loose, open sleeves that left her fine arms partially exposed, every time she lifted them. She came up to the table and seemed struck with wonder, for lifting up both arms, she uttered an exclamation of delight which the boy heard clearly.

The man snatched something from the box, arose, and seized her arm. A little struggle followed, quick, impassioned words, which the listener did not understand, but he saw that the man was pleading for something which she smilingly refused. That boy knew at last what it meant; he had begged and coaxed exactly in the same way for a good-by kiss, which little Rose resisted, almost as her mother was doing now. He had promised the very string of robins' eggs in his hand, as a temptation, and all to no effect. He remembered his own disappointment, and rather pitied the poor man, who, baffled and mortified, bent down and kissed Mrs. Mason's arm, just above a glittering band which circled the wrist, flashing there like a ribbon of fire.