I am constantly haunted by the thought that she is in some way connected with my school-mate Pauline De Lacy. I have in vain tried to remember if she had a married sister whose child this may be.
But I must leave this subject and finish my story about Cæsar and his wife. It was a great trial to them when mother and Emily left the old homestead, even to go across the garden to their cottage-home, and they desired to go with them. But mother overruled their objections and retained Ruth, their only child, a capable girl of twenty.
I believe Cæsar trembled not a little at the idea of a new mistress, who he feared would disturb the harmony of the family. I have, however, gained his good will. He treats me like a toy which he is exceedingly apprehensive of injuring.
As for Phebe, such is her pride in the glory of "our folks," that as I am a Lenox, the wife of Mass'r Frank, nothing can be too good for me. I think, she likes me better because I am young and inexperienced in household affairs, and, therefore, shall not be likely to interfere in her department. There is, indeed, no occasion for me to do so. She has been well and thoroughly trained by mother, and is fully competent to perform the duties of her station, while Ann, the chambermaid, is equally so in her appropriate sphere.
To tell you the truth, I did not know exactly what was expected of me. One day last week, I waited upon madam in the kitchen and in a very hesitating manner began to say something about dinner, when she soon interrupted me, "Laws, missus, don't you, honey, trouble your precious head 'bout sich kind. I'se feel shamed to look Mass'r Frank in de face, and den pears like make me blush to have it told down town; little young missus spending her blessed time in de kitchen."
I presume, I looked, as I felt, delighted to be relieved, and was running away, laughingly, when she continued, "Dere missus, go long, please, and play on de pianny." I came gladly away, but spent the time writing in my journal. Now I have enough to occupy me in the care of my little Pauline.
After Ann had put her to bed last night, Frank showed us the little parcel given him by the landlady. It contained part of a letter addressed to a domestic, giving strict directions concerning the child. It was written in French, in a delicate female hand, but gave no clue as to the name or place of the writer. A mother's heart evidently dictated it, from the numerous directions about clothing, diet, and the like. The packet contained, in addition, a child's dress, with elaborate embroidery upon the neck and sleeves; also a pair of coral and gold sleeve clasps to match the necklace.
Many conjectures were formed by Emily, respecting the parentage of the child, after which the articles were returned to Frank to be locked up safely among his treasures. His sister mischievously recommended him to deposit them in a certain trunk, containing nothing but old letters, saying, with an arch look at me, "I suppose now they are worthless."
The Doctor deigned no reply. This amused Emily so much that she whispered to me, loud enough for him to hear, "Oh, the deceitfulness of man! He tries, beneath that solemn look, to make you believe that he doesn't value those letters above rubies. I'll manage very differently if I ever get in love, which to be sure, is very unlikely. I should wish my husband to tell me once in half an hour that I was dearer to him than all on earth. I've no doubt Frank feels as I do, for each one of those letters used to make him bright for a week; and he hurried the poor carpenters and masons, as if his very life depended on our moving away from the house as soon as possible."
"Emily," called Frank in a serious tone, looking up gravely from the book he was reading, "did I not hear something of an exchange of pulpits between Mr. Munroe and Mr. Benson?"