Holmes_Millbank.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
so secretly that they knew not
whence came the aid, but for which they might have given up
in utter despair and hopelessness.
approved and assisted in all her husband's char
ities, and her heart went out after the sad, sorrowful ones, with
a yearning desire to make them as happy as herself.
was this the case that time, when to all her othei
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blessings a baby had been added, and she made it a season foi
extra gifts to the poor and needy who, through all the long
winter, would be more comfortable because of her generous
remembrance.
the list of guests to be invited for the holidays was
being made out, she sat for a moment by 's side, with
her eyes fixed musingly on the bright fire in the grate.- .
and . ' s names were on the list, with that of
and the young clergyman to whom she was engaged,
and waited for to say if there was any one
else whom she would have.
", , there is. you won't approve, but
should like to ask . , if you don't object too
much. has a dreary time at best, and this will be a change.
may not come, it's true ; but she will be pleased to know
we remember her."
had entertained the same thought, but refrained from
giving expression to it from a fear lest would not
like it r and so that day a cordial invitation to pass the holidays
at was forwarded to the boarding-house in
which . was actually keeping as a means of
support. oil had failed, as well as the bank which held
her money. " might be something for her some time,
perhaps, but there was nothing now," was the report of the
lawyer employed to investigate the matter, and then she began
to realize how utterly destitute she was. could not help
her, and as she, was too proud to ask help of , she finally
did what so many poor, discouraged women do, opened a
boarding-house in a part of the city where she would not be
likely to meet any of her former friends, and there, in dull,
dingy rooms, with forlorn, half-worn furniture and faded drap
ery, all relics like herself of former splendors, she tried to earn
her living. goods which she managed to smuggle away
from served her a good turn now, and pawnbrokers
and buyers of old silver and pictures soon made the acquaint
ance of the tall lady with light hair and traces of great beauty,
-.
who came so ften to their shops, and seemed so sad and deso
late. and had been to see her once, and
had been many times ; but never deigned to notice
her, though she was frequently in , and once drove
past the boarding-house in a stylish carriage with her velvets
and ermine around her. . did not see her,
and so that pang was spared her. had finished her book,
but the publishers one and all showed a strange obtuseness
with regard to its worth, and it was put away in her trunk,
where others thing pertaining to the past were buried.
invitation from took her by surprise and made
her cry a little, but she hastened to accept it, and was there
before her daughter-in-law, and an occupant of her former
room. was old and broken, and faded, and poor, and
seemed very quiet, and very fond of 's baby, which
she kept a great deal in her room, calling herself its grandma,
and thinking, perhaps, of another little one whose loss no one
had regretted save , the father. came at last with
, who was very polite and gracious to her mother-in-law,
whom she had not expected to meet.
" course am sorry for her," she said to , who
was one day talking of her, and wishing something might be
done to better her condition. " what can do.
refuses to receive money from me, and as for having her in my
house no power on earth could induce me to do that."
! for . proposes, but disposes, and the
thing which no power on earth could induce her to do was to
be forced upon her whether she would have it or not.
dinner was a sumptuous one, and after it was
over the guests repaired to the parlors, where music and a little
dance formed a part of the evening's entertainment. .
was playing for the dance. fingers had not
yet forgotten their skill, and she had good-naturedly offered to
take the place of , who gave up the more will
ingly because of the young clergyman looking over a book of
engravings and casting wistful glances toward her. it
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was the dinner, or the excitement, or a combination of both,
none could tell, but there was suddenly a cessation of the
music, a crash among the keys, and . turned
toward the astonished dancers a face which frightened them, it
was so white, so strange, and so distorted. of one
entire side was the verdict of the physician who was summoned
immediately and did all he could for the stricken woman, from
one-half of whose body the sense of feeling was gone, and who
lay in her room as helpless as a child. her face
began to look more natural, her speech came back again, thick
and stammering, but tolerably intelligible, and her limp right
hand moved feebly, showing that she was in part recovering.
three weeks they nursed her with the utmost care, and
stayed by and shrank from the future which she saw before
her, and from which she wished so much to escape. her
womanly pity and sympathy would have kept the
paralytic woman at , but was not willing that
her young life should be burdened in this way, and he said to
and :
" mother's place is with her children. you are not
able to take care of her, am willing to help ; but cannot
suffer to take that load of care."
it was settled, and went home to and prepared
an upper room, which overlooked the , and then came
back to , where they made the invalid ready for the
journey. face was very white and there was a look of
dreary despair and dread in her eyes, but she uttered no word
of protest against the plan, and thanked for his kindness,
and kissed the little and cried softly over her, and whis
pered to : " and see me often. is the only
pleasant thing can look forward too."
then and carried her out to the carriage
which took her to the cars, and that night she heard the winter
wind howl around the winddws of the room to which she felt
that she was doomed for life, and which, taking that view of it
seemed to her like a prison.
4OO - .
" is sure to remember first or last," old said,
as she watched the carriage moving slowly down the avenue,
" and though can't say would have given her the shakin'
palsy if 'd of been the , know it's right and just, and a
warnin' to all liars and deceitful, snoopin' critters."
was sorry for the woman, and went to see her
almost as often as herself, and once stayed three
whole weeks, and took care of her when . was
away. did not trouble herself very much about her mother-
in-law, or spend much time with her. gave orders that she
should be well cared for and have everything she wished for,
and she saw that her orders were obeyed. also went once
a day to see her and ask if she was comfortable ; but after that
she felt that nothing further was incumbent upon her. so
for all . knew of the outer world and the life
she had once enjoyed so much, she was indebted to ,
who before her marriage passed many hours with the invalid,
telling her of things which she thought would interest her, and
sometimes reading to her until she fell asleep. after
was gone . 's days passed in dreary loneliness
and wretched discontent. had no pleasure in recalling the
past, and nothing to look forward to in the future. remain
der of her wretched life she knew must be passed where she
was not wanted, and where her son came but once a day to see
her and that in the evening just after dinner, when he usually
fell asleep while she was trying to talk to him.
would not suffer to go into the city evenings unless
she accompanied him, for she had no fancy for having him
brought to her in a state of intoxication, as was once the case.
, who was a good deal afraid of her, remained obe
diently at home, and, preferring his mother's society to that of
his wife, stayed in the sick room a portion of every evening;
then, when wholly wearied there, went to his own apartment
and smoked in dreary solitude until midnight.
was 's life and such the life of his mother, until
there came to her a change in the form of a second shock,
- . 40 1
which rendered one hand and foot entirely helpless, and distorted
her features so badly that she insisted that the blinds should be
kept closed and the curtains down, so that those who came
into her room could not see how disfigured she was. so
in darkness and solitude her days pass drearily, with impatient
longings for the night, and when the night comes she moans
and weeps, and wishes it was morning. woman ! is
a burden to herself and a terrible skeleton to her fashionable
daughter-in-law, who in the gayest scenes in which she mingles
never long forgets the paralytic at home, sinking so fast into
utter imbecility, and as she becomes more and more childish
and helpless, requiring more and more care^and attention.
curse of wrong-doing is resting on as well as on her
husband and his mother, and though she is proud and haughty
and reserved as ever, she is far from being happy, and her
friends say to each other that she is growing old and losing her
brilliant beauty. often tells her of it when he has been
drinking wine. is not afraid of her then, and after he
found that it annoyed her he delighted to tease her about her
fading beauty, and to ask why she could not keep as young
and fresh and handsome as . was not a
wrinkle in her face, he said, and she looked younger and hand
somer than when he first came home from and saw her
at the .
well might retain her girlish beauty, for if
ever the fountain of youth existed anywhere it was in her home
at . popular with the villagers, idolized
by her husband, perfectly happy in her baby, surrounded by
2very luxury which wealth can furnish and every care lifted
from her by old 's thoughtfulness, there has as yet been
no shadow, however small, upon her married life, and her face
is as fair and beautiful, and her voice as full of glee as when she
sat with by the river side and felt the first awakenings of
the love which has since grown to be her life.
now we say farewell to , knowing that when
sorrow comes to its inmates, as it must some day come, it will
402 -.
not be such a sorrow as enshrouds that gloomy house in ,
for there is perfect love and faith between the husband and the
wife, with no sad, dreary retrospects of wrong to make the
present unendurable.