“Thank you,” returned Mrs. Graham, now raising herself upon her elbow, “Thank you—-but do you know anything positive? What has Durward done?”
“’Lena is in Frankfort now, at Mr. Douglass’s,” answered Mrs. Livingstone, “and your son is in the constant habit of visiting there; besides that, he invited her to ride with him when they all went to Frankfort—’Lena upon the gray pony which your husband gave her as a Christmas present.”
Mrs. Livingstone had touched the right spot. ’Twas the first intimation of Vesta which Mrs. Graham had received, and now sitting bolt upright, she demanded what Mrs. Livingstone meant. “My husband give ’Lena Rivers a pony! Harry Graham do such a thing! It can’t be possible. There must be some mistake.”
“I think not,” returned Mrs. Livingstone. “Your son came over with it, saying ‘it was a present from his father, who sent it, together with his compliments.’”
Back among her cushions tumbled Mrs. Graham, moaning, groaning, and pronouncing herself wholly heart-broken. “I knew he was bad,” said she, “but I never dreamed it had come to this. And I might have known it, too, for from the moment he first saw that girl, he has acted like a crazy creature. Talks about her in his sleep—wants me to adopt her—keeps his eyes on her every minute when he’s where she is; and to crown all, without consulting me, his lawful wife, he has made her a present, which must have cost more than a hundred dollars! And she accepted it—the vixen!”
“That’s the worst feature in the case,” said Mrs. Livingstone. “I have always been suspicious of ’Lena, knowing what her mother was, but I must confess I did not think her quite so presumptuous as to accept so costly a present from a gentleman, and a married one, too. But she has a peculiar way of making them think what she does is right, and neither my husband nor John Jr. can see any impropriety in her keeping Vesta. Carrie wouldn’t have done such a thing.”
“Indeed she wouldn’t. She is too well-bred for that,” said Mrs. Graham, who had been completely won by Carrie’s soft speeches and fawning manner.
This compliment to her daughter pleased Mrs. Livingstone, who straightway proceeded to build Carrie up still higher, by pulling ’Lena down. Accordingly, every little thing which she could remember, and many which she could not, were told in an aggravated manner, until quite a case was made out, and ’Lena would never have recognized herself in the artful, designing creature which her aunt kindly pictured her to be.
“Of course,” said she, “if you ever repeat this, you will not use my name, for as she is my husband’s niece it will not look well in me to be proclaiming her vices, except in cases where I think it my duty.”
Mrs. Graham was too much absorbed in her own reflections to make a reply, and as Mrs. Livingstone saw that her company was hardly desired, she soon arose to go, asking Mrs. Graham “why she did not oftener visit Maple Grove.”