“Oh! yes. Why, I telled her she might well have a share o’ the property, seein’ how she was General Garnet’s granddaughter.”
“General Garnet’s granddaughter!” exclaimed everyone.
“Yes. Don’t all talk to me at the same time, you ’fuse my head. I declare, if my heart aint as big as a batch of light dough, and my head goes round like a coffee-mill! That ’minds me of the breakfast—’deed it will get spoiled.”
“But you did not tell her that she was General Garnet’s granddaughter. It was something else you told her,” said Elsie.
“I—don’t ’fuse my mind. I don’t ’member what the words were, but that’s what the meaning was.”
“I remember what the words were exactly,” said Elsie; “she said she was ‘his own flesh and blood.’”
“To be sure I did; that’s just what I did say. It’s all in the little yellow hair trunk—her mother’s little yellow hair trunk. I never knowed anything about it until I come here to live, because I never had no chance to fool my time away ransacking of old papers afore. If you’ll all stop talking to me, I’ll tell you all about it, and you can read the rest. You see, General Garnet, when he was a boy about seventeen or eighteen years old, he falls in love long of a poor gal, and marries her secretly. In about a year arter this, the poor gal she died, leaving of a young infant son. Then General Garnet—he was Mr. Garnet then—he being a wild young man, and not wanting to be bothered with children, he puts this child out to nurse, and goes off and forgets all about it. But the boy, as he grew up, he knew, somehow, who his father was, and sort o’ always had a hankering arter finding him. Well, he didn’t meet his father till he listed in the wars, when he was no more than fourteen years of age; and he served under him the whole length of the war; and though General Garnet—he was Captain Garnet then—being a handsome, dashing, gay young officer, would not acknowledge or even notice this son, yet the boy seemed to worship the very earth his father walked on. He seemed to live but for one thing in the world—to love and serve his handsome but unnatural father. He watched over the safety of his life and his honor. Twice he saved his father’s honor at the loss of his own reputation; and that was the reason why he never got to be anything better ’an a corporal all the time he sarved in the war. I’ll tell you all about it some time, or else you can read it all in the old letters in the little yellow hair trunk. Well, and at last he saved his father’s life, at the expense of a dreadful wound, that, arter years of illness, caused his death. Well, this boy—though his father didn’t set any store to him, and his comrades didn’t vally him as they ought to ’a done—was thought a heap on by my wild little cousin. And so, when he come from the wars, wounded, and feeble, and broken-hearted, she stole away to him, and they were married. She said she could work for both, and she did work for both till he died. Well, arter the poor misfortunate young man was dead and gone, I suppose General Garnet’s conscience, as had been stone dead long before, had a resurrection, or else the ghost of his murdered conscience haunted him, for he paid a visit to the young widow, and found her grieving herself to death. Well, he made a whole parcel o’ splendid promises as he never fulfilled. And when the poor young thing died, leaving her little darter in his care, he jest passed her over to me as a great favor, and that was the very last I ever saw or heard of him or his promises till he quarreled long o’ his own darter, and then he comed over and ’dopted Nettie. You see, God never could prevail with him to do anything, but the devil could make him do as he pleased.”
“There, there, Miss Joe, that will do,” interrupted Mrs. Garnet, to whom these severe reflections were deeply painful. “Never, Miss Joe, cast unnecessary reproach upon the memory of the dumb, defenseless dead.”
“I won’t. I am sure if the Lord pardons him, we can. I won’t say any more. Only if you want to know all the particulars, you see, you can read the letters in the little yellow hair trunk. And that’s the end of the story; and now I know the coffee is spoiled.”
“Garnet, you have a right to blush for your parentage—but let it be a blush of enthusiasm, for never have I heard of two such disinterested souls,” said Dr. Hardcastle, shaking her hand with cordial sympathy.