I could not keep back my tears at witnessing the unrestrained grief of the afflicted woman. "I could bear it myself," she continued, sobbing, "but William has given up, and says, it is no use now, trying to be anything."
Though I feared, it would be in vain, I did all I could to encourage her and told her the Doctor would inquire about it, and see if the purchaser could not be bought off. "At any rate," I said, "William can put up a cottage like it. You must not allow your husband to despond." She went away with her heart somewhat lightened. When Frank came in, I related her story to him, and was greatly encouraged by his hopeful view of the subject.
He said, "I will see Reynolds immediately." I am often astonished that my dear husband with so large a practice finds time to render so many acts of kindness to those around him.
Tuesday, June 6th.
My dear mother, I have so much to tell you, I scarcely know where to begin. Frank has hinted to me a number of times, that he intended to celebrate Pauline's birth-day in good style, as the poor girl had taken such a burden upon herself at the celebration of her brother's birth-day. But when I inquired for farther particulars, he always turned it off with a laugh. When I went this morning to the kitchen, I found Phebe in her element, saying. "Mass'r Frank gib orders for cake and pies, for twenty people, and Ruth say ole missus is g'wine to make bread and boil meat."
What can all this mean! I walked straight to the cottage to learn what I could from mother. My rising wrath at being kept so entirely in the dark was somewhat mollified by finding her as ignorant as myself. She was, however, busy in preparing dishes for a bountiful supper, according to the wish of Emily. My dear, artless mother did not deceive me, when she pretended not to hear as I eagerly asked, "have you no idea of the meaning of all this secrecy?" I said no more, but walked back, soliloquizing whether it would be wiser for me to insist upon knowing without farther delay, or to allow matters to approach the crisis. I had concluded upon the latter course when I saw Frank drive into the yard. I did not stop, however, for I intended to keep up my dignity, and to appear perfectly indifferent. So I went to my room and gave Pauline her lesson; but Frank peeped in and beckoned me away.
I put on a very serious air and followed him. "Come now," said he, kissing me, "you can't make me believe you are angry; I see your mouth twitch; I've some good news for you."
In my curiosity, I threw away my reserve, and listened eagerly to his story, which I must go back a little to render intelligible. It appears that Emily's large heart was swelling with "a purpose" when she so suddenly started for Squire Lee's, on our return from visiting the humble abode of Mrs. Reynolds. Undefined, at first, she confessed it was; but a vague idea was flitting through her mind, of persuading the owner to give back Rose Cottage to its former occupants. Sometimes her hopes rose high, and then she was tempted to abandon her project. The thought of expecting "the hardened old man" (as the Squire had universally been called until his sickness,) the thought of asking such a man to give away what he valued at ten or twelve hundred dollars, merely to encourage the reformation of his inferior who had been ruined in his employment, seemed hopeless and absurd. But the image of the patient sufferer, eagerly listening to her praises of his daughter, gave her courage to proceed, and she tapped gently at the door of his room, where she was sure to find Lucy.
After talking pleasantly with the old gentleman for a few moments, Lucy in obedience to a motion from Emily, retired with her to the inner apartment. There she made bold to divulge her plans and wishes, to which there was no want of attention on the part of the listener. She, however, made no reply until Emily had finished, when she took her hand, saying, "Come and tell father."