Christmas at Cedar Hill

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"I knew my aunt loved me, or I really believe I should have died of a broken heart. But she could show her love to me only when we were alone together. I had never seen Jones but once since she left me, when she had come to tell me of the loss of her husband, who died within a week of her leaving him. We were crying together over this sad news—for I loved all my dear father's men, and Jones had been a special favorite—when my uncle happened to come in, and seeing me in tears, he ordered the servants never to admit that woman again, declaring that she made me a worse baby than I was without her. I tried to tell him what we were crying about, but it was of no use—he never would listen to any explanation. My aunt taught me my lessons, and I took great pains to please her, but I could hardly help hating my uncle, and I dreaded to see him come into the house."

"One day, however, he actually came home in a good humor, and eat his dinner without finding fault with anything. He spoke to me quite kindly several times, helped me plentifully to sweetmeats, and after he came into the drawing-room, he called me to him and made me sit on his knee, a thing which he had never done before since I came into the house. My aunt looked surprised and almost frightened, but presently she ventured to say:"

"'Agatha has been a very good girl to-day.'"

"'Has she?' said my uncle, 'I am glad to hear it;' and he actually put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a guinea."

"'Keep that and show it to your Yankee relations,' said he."

"'What do you menu, Mr. Morley?' said my aunt, turning pale."

"'I mean that I am going to send the child to her father's relations in America,' he replied. 'That woman Jones, of whom she is so fond, is going out to her daughter in New York, and she will take charge of her. So you have nothing to do but to get her ready as fast as you can. Let her have good clothes and plenty of them. I don't want the Yankees to think that she has been neglected: and mind, madam, I will have no whimpering about the matter. You can see plainly that the child is glad enough to go.'"

"I believe I was pleased at the prospect of going to America, for I thought I should see my kind uncle Hamblin and Charley again. But I began to moderate my joy when I saw how unhappy my aunt was at the thought of parting with me. She kissed me and cried over me that night, calling me her only comfort; but when I said I would stay with her if she wished it, she told me that there was no use in talking about it—my uncle had made up his mind and would have his own way. Jones came to see us the next day, and had a long private conversation with my aunt, and so the matter was settled. All my old clothes were laid aside, and I had a complete outfit of new ones; and my aunt gave me five guineas in a little purse and bade me take good care of it. My uncle paid my passage and gave Jones money for my travelling expenses, after I should get to America; and my aunt made her promise not to leave me till I was in my uncle's hands."

"It seemed as though I was always to be unfortunate in my sea-voyages, for before we were half-way across, the cholera broke out in the ship. We were in the steerage. My uncle had told my aunt that he had paid for a cabin passage for Jones and me, but it was not true. The surgeon as well as the captain and other officers did all in their power for the poor passengers, but many of them died, and among the number my poor dear nurse."

"There was a poor widow, named Mrs. Mix, who had been very kind to us all the way over, and Jones gave me into her charge, together with the money my uncle had given her, begging her to put me in the way of getting to my friends, which she promised to do. But it seemed as though I were to have nothing but trouble in my travels. In the bustle and confusion of our arrival in New York, my trunk was lost or stolen, and I never saw it again. This was all the worse, because all my money and my uncle's direction were in it. Mrs. Mix had the direction from my nurse, but she had forgotten it, and I did not know it at all. Mrs. Mix had expected her friends to meet her in Now York, but they did not come, and after a few days, she received a letter from them, telling her how to find them. They lived in Greenbriar, and thither she went, taking me with her."