“’Lena been gone four weeks and father never stirred a peg after her! That is smart, I must say. Why didn’t you let me know it before!” exclaimed John Jr., as he one morning unexpectedly made his appearance at Maple grove.
During his absence Carrie had been his only correspondent, and for some reason or other she delayed telling him of ’Lena’s flight until quite recently. Instantly forgetting his resolution of not returning for a year, he came home with headlong haste, determining to start immediately after his cousin.
“I reckon if you knew all that has been said about her, you wouldn’t feel quite so anxious to get her back,” said Carrie. “For my part, I feel quite relieved at her absence.”
“Shut up your head,” roared John Jr. “’Lena is no more guilty than you. By George, I most cried when I heard how nobly she worked to save Anna from old Baldhead. And this is her reward! Gracious Peter! I sometimes wish there wasn’t a woman in the world!”
“If they’d all marry you, there wouldn’t be long!” retorted Carrie.
“You’ve said it now, haven’t you?” answered John Jr., while his father suggested that they stop quarreling, adding, as an apology for his own neglect, that Durward had gone after ’Lena, who was probably at Mr. Everett’s, and that he himself had advertised in all the principal papers.
“Just like Bellmont! He’s a fine fellow and deserves ’Lena, if anybody does,” exclaimed John Jr., while Carrie chimed in, “Pshaw! I’ve no idea he’s gone for her. Why, they’ve hardly spoken for several months, and besides that, Mrs. Graham will never suffer him to marry one of so low origin.”
“The deary me!” said John Jr., mimicking his sister’s manner, “how much lower is her origin than yours?”
Carrie’s reply was prevented by the appearance of her grandmother, who, hearing that John Jr. was there, had hobbled in to see him. Perfectly rational on all other subjects, Mrs. Nichols still persisted in saying of ’Lena, that she had killed her, and now, when her first greeting with John Jr. was over, she whispered in his ear, “Have they told you ’Lena was dead? She is—I killed her—it says so here,” and she handed him the almost worn-out note which she constantly carried with her. Rough as he seemed at times, there was in John Jr.’s nature many a tender spot, and when he saw the look of childish imbecility on his grandmother’s face, he pressed his strong arm around her, and a tear actually dropped upon her gray hair as he told her ’Lena was not dead—he was going to find her and bring her home. At that moment old Cæsar, who had been to the post-office, returned, bringing Mr. Graham’s letter, which had just arrived.
“That’s Mr. Graham’s handwriting,” said Carrie; glancing at the superscription. “Perhaps he knows something of ’Lena!” and she looked meaningly at her mother, who, with a peculiar twist of her mouth, replied, “Very likely.”