“We will not intrude here,” said my brother. There was a strange huskiness in his voice, and I felt his whole frame tremble as it did when he was strongly moved.
We walked slowly home again and talked sadly of the misfortune that had befallen our friends—of their plans of quiet happiness that must be given up—of their munificent charities that must be now contracted, and of the anxieties and embarrassments which would harass that honorable old man, but when I said that Lizzy must come home from school, and George must discontinue his studies, Fred replied resolutely that “It must not be;” and when we entered the house, he seated himself before the writing-desk and commenced a letter. Having occasion to cross the room as he was closing it, I took a sister’s liberty to peep over his shoulder, and saw—“So, my dear fellow, do not think of leaving, but draw on me for whatever funds you may require.”
A fortnight elapsed, during which I saw little of Harriet. In his professional capacity, as a lawyer, Fred was busy most of the time with Mr. Atherton, canvassing the business—settling accounts and making assignments; and it was a season of mental torture to the ruined father which could hardly have been borne had it not been for the gentle ministrations of his daughter. She it was who nerved her invalid mother to meet calmly their change of circumstances, and to aid her in consoling the care-worn, haggard man, whose sorrow they so deeply shared. The sight of her lovely face beaming with cheerfulness and affection, the sound of her low musical voice, as she sung the songs he loved, or repeated to him words of religious faith and consolation, seemed to operate like a charm in driving away the cares that haunted him, and gradually her firmness and courage were imparted to him, and he was enabled to lift up his head once more and hope for better days.
Early one morning Hattie entered the room where we were sitting at breakfast, with a face so much more joyful than she had for some time worn, that I knew she must have some good news to communicate.
“It is, indeed, so,” said she, in reply to my inquiry. “I came to tell some news, and also to beg your assistance for to-day.”
“I am at your service,” I answered; “but first tell me what has happened to please you so much?”
“I must premise,” replied she, “what you already know, that on settling up his affairs, father has found that he can pay every cent he owes, and we shall have our dear old house and garden left; and as father has a thousand dollars a year from his land agency, we shall be able to get along quite comfortably. But in order to do so, Lizzy must leave school and George must help support himself for the next eighteen months which elapse before his studies are finished. Now you know he inherits mother’s delicate constitution, and his health is too feeble to allow him to apply himself as closely as will be necessary if he is to earn his own support. Father has a sort of nervous horror of his getting into debt, (and George is as particular as father is on that point,) so, to make my story short,” she added, hesitating a little, while a bright blush suddenly suffused her face, “I am going to support them, and father can keep the old homestead—”
“You support them—how?” we both exclaimed.
“Through the kindness of my old teacher, Miss W——. Lizzy mentioned in her last letter that Miss Foster, who has so long taught drawing and music at the Seminary, had left to be married, and their present teacher was not considered competent. So I wrote the day after our misfortune came, without saying any thing to father, and applied for the situation, and this morning I received an answer, filled with the most flattering expressions of kindness, and offering very liberal terms.”
“You do not seriously mean that you intend teaching?” said my brother, in a tone that deepened the flush on Hattie’s cheek.