Harriet Wilson

CHAPTER XI, MARRIAGE AGAIN

Crucified the hopes that cheered me,
All that to the earth endeared me;
Love of wealth and fame and power,
Love,--all have been crucified.
C. E.

DARKNESS before day. Jane left, but Jack was
now to come again. After Mary's death he vis-
ited home, leaving a wife behind. An orphan
whose home was with a relative, gentle, loving,
the true mate of kind, generous Jack. His
mother was a stranger to her, of course, and
had perfect right to interrogate:

"Is she good looking, Jack?" asked his
mother.

"Looks well to me," was the laconic reply.
"Was her father rich?"

"Not worth a copper, as I know of; I never
asked him," answered Jack.

"Hadn't she any property? What did you
marry her for," asked his mother.

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"Oh, she's worth a million dollars, mother,
though not a cent of it is in money."

"Jack! what do you want to bring such a
poor being into the family, for? You'd better
stay here, at home, and let your wife go. Why
couldn't you try to do better, and not disgrace
your parents?"

"Don't judge, till you see her," was Jack's
reply, and immediately changed the subject.
It was no recommendation to his mother, and
she did not feel prepared to welcome her cor-
dially now he was to come with his wife. He
was indignant at his mother's advice to desert
her. It rankled bitterly in his soul, the bare
suggestion. He had more to bring. He now
came with a child also. He decided to leave the
West, but not his family.

Upon their arrival, Mrs. B. extended a cold
welcome to her new daughter, eyeing her dress
with closest scrutiny. Poverty was to her a
disgrace, and she could not associate with any
thus dishonored. This coldness was felt by Jack's
worthy wife, who only strove the harder to
recommend herself by her obliging, winning
ways.

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Mrs. B. could never let Jack be with her
alone without complaining of this or that de-
ficiency in his wife.

He cared not so long as the complaints were
piercing his own ears. He would not have
Jenny disquieted. He passed his time in seek-
ing employment.

A letter came from his brother Lewis, then at
the South, soliciting his services. Leaving his
wife, he repaired thither.

Mrs. B. felt that great restraint was removed,
that Jenny was more in her own power. She
wished to make her feel her inferiority; to
relieve Jack of his burden if he would not do
it himself. She watched her incessantly, to
catch at some act of Jenny's which might be
construed into conjugal unfaithfulness.
Near by were a family of cousins, one a
young man of Jack's age, who, from love to his
cousin, proffered all needful courtesy to his
stranger relative. Soon news reached Jack that
Jenny was deserting her covenant vows, and
had formed an illegal intimacy with his cousin.
Meantime Jenny was told by her mother-in-
law that Jack did not marry her untrammelled.
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He had another love whom he would be glad,
even now, if he could, to marry. It was very
doubtful if he ever came for her.

Jenny would feel pained by her unwelcome
gossip, and, glancing at her child, she decided,
however true it might be, she had a pledge
which would enchain him yet. Ere long, the
mother's inveterate hate crept out into some
neighbor's enclosure, and, caught up hastily,
they passed the secret round till it became none,
and Lewis was sent for, the brother by whom
Jack was employed. The neighbors saw her
fade in health and spirits; they found letters
never reached their destination when sent by
either. Lewis arrived with the joyful news
that he had come to take Jenny home with
him.

What a relief to her to be freed from the
gnawing taunts of her adversary.

Jenny retired to prepare for the journey, and
Mrs. B. and Henry had a long interview. Next
morning he informed Jenny that new clothes
would be necessary, in order to make her pre-
sentable to Baltimore society, and he should
return without her, and she must stay till she
was suitably attired.

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Disheartened, she rushed to her room, and,
after relief from weeping, wrote to Jack to
come; to have pity on her, and take her to him.
No answer came. Mrs. Smith, a neighbor, watch-
ful and friendly, suggested that she write away
from home, and employ some one to carry it to
the office who would elude Mrs. B., who, they
very well knew, had intercepted Jenny's letter,
and influenced Lewis to leave her behind. She
accepted the offer, and Frado succeeded in man-
aging the affair so that Jack soon came to the
rescue, angry, wounded, and forever after alien-
ated from his early home and his mother. Many
times would Frado steal up into Jenny's room,
when she knew she was tortured by her mis-
tress' malignity, and tell some of her own
encounters with her, and tell her she might "be
sure it wouldn't kill her, for she should have
died long before at the same treatment."

Susan and her child succeeded Jenny as vis-
itors. Frado had merged into womanhood, and,
retaining what she had learned, in spite of the
few privileges enjoyed formerly, was striving to
enrich her mind. Her school-books were her
constant companions, and every leisure moment

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was applied to them. Susan was delighted to
witness her progress, and some little book from
her was a reward sufficient for any task im-
posed, however difficult. She had her book
always fastened open near her, where she could
glance from toil to soul refreshment. The
approaching spring would close the term of
years which Mrs. B. claimed as the period of
her servitude. Often as she passed the way-
marks of former years did she pause to ponder
on her situation, and wonder if she could succeed
in providing for her own wants. Her health
was delicate, yet she resolved to try.

Soon she counted the time by days which
should release her. Mrs. B. felt that she could
not well spare one who could so well adapt her-
self to all departments--man, boy, housekeeper,
domestic, etc. She begged Mrs. Smith to talk
with her, to show her how ungrateful it would
appear to leave a home of such comfort--how
wicked it was to be ungrateful! But Frado
replied that she had had enough of such com-
forts; she wanted some new ones; and as it was
so wicked to be ungrateful, she would go from
temptation; Aunt Abby said "we mustn't put
ourselves in the way of temptation."

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Poor little Fido! She shed more tears over
him than over all beside.

The morning for departure dawned. Frado
engaged to work for a family a mile distant.
Mrs. Bellmont dismissed her with the assurance
that she would soon wish herself back again,
and a present of a silver half dollar.

Her wardrobe consisted of one decent dress,
without any superfluous accompaniments. A
Bible from Susan she felt was her greatest
treasure.

Now was she alone in the world. The past
year had been one of suffering resulting from a
fall, which had left her lame.

The first summer passed pleasantly, and the
wages earned were expended in garments neces-
sary for health and cleanliness. Though feeble,
she was well satisfied with her progress. Shut
up in her room, after her toil was finished, she
studied what poor samples of apparel she had,
and, for the first time, prepared her own gar-
ments.

Mrs. Moore, who employed her, was a kind
friend to her, and attempted to heal her
wounded spirit by sympathy and advice, bury-

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ing the past in the prospects of the future.
But her failing health was a cloud no kindly
human hand could dissipate. A little light
work was all she could accomplish. A clergy-
man, whose family was small, sought her, and
she was removed there. Her engagement with
Mrs. Moore finished in the fall. Frado was
anxious to keep up her reputation for efficiency,
and often pressed far beyond prudence. In the
winter she entirely gave up work, and confessed
herself thoroughly sick. Mrs. Hale, soon over-
come by additional cares, was taken sick also,
and now it became necessary to adopt some
measures for Frado's comfort, as well as to
relieve Mrs. Hale. Such dark forebodings as
visited her as she lay, solitary and sad, no moans
or sighs could relieve.

The family physician pronounced her case
one of doubtful issue. Frado hoped it was final.
She could not feel relentings that her former
home was abandoned, and yet, should she be in
need of succor could she obtain it from one who
would now so grudgingly bestow it? The
family were applied to, and it was decided to
take her there. She was removed to a room

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built out from the main building, used formerly
as a workshop, where cold and rain found unob-
structed access, and here she fought with bitter
reminiscences and future prospects till she be-
came reckless of her faith and hopes and person,
and half wished to end what nature seemed so
tardily to take.

Aunt Abby made her frequent visits, and at
last had her removed to her own apartment,
where she might supply her wants, and minister
to her once more in heavenly things.
Then came the family consultation.

"What is to be done with her," asked Mrs. B.,
"after she is moved there with Nab?"

"Send for the Dr., your brother," Mr. B. re-
plied.

"When?"

"To-night."

"To-night! and for her! Wait till morning,"
she continued.

"She has waited too long now; I think some-
thing should be done soon."

"I doubt if she is much sick," sharply inter-
rupted Mrs. B.

"Well, we'll see what our brother thinks."

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His coming was longed for by Frado, who had
known him well during her long sojourn in the
family; and his praise of her nice butter and
cheese, from which his table was supplied, she
knew he felt as well as spoke.

"You're sick, very sick," he said, quickly,
after a moment's pause. "Take good care of
her, Abby, or she'll never get well. All broken
down."

"Yes, it was at Mrs. Moore's," said Mrs. B.,
"all this was done. She did but little the latter
part of the time she was here."

"It was commenced longer ago than last sum-
mer. Take good care of her; she may never
get well," remarked the Dr.
"We sha'n't pay you for doctoring her; you
may look to the town for that, sir," said Mrs. B.,
and abruptly left the room.

"Oh dear! oh dear!" exclaimed Frado, and
buried her face in the pillow.

A few kind words of consolation, and she was
once more alone in the darkness which envel-
oped her previous days. Yet she felt sure they
owed her a shelter and attention, when disabled,
and she resolved to feel patient, and remain till

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she could help herself. Mrs. B. would not at-
tend her, nor permit her domestic to stay with
her at all. Aunt Abby was her sole comforter.
Aunt Abby's nursing had the desired effect, and
she slowly improved. As soon as she was able
to be moved, the kind Mrs. Moore took her to
her home again, and completed what Aunt Abby
had so well commenced. Not that she was well,
or ever would be; but she had recovered so far
as rendered it hopeful she might provide for her
own wants. The clergyman at whose house she
was taken sick, was now seeking some one to
watch his sick children, and as soon as he heard
of her recovery, again asked for her services.
What seemed so light and easy to others, was
too much for Frado; and it became necessary
to ask once more where the sick should find an
asylum.

All felt that the place where her declining
health began, should be the place of relief; so
they applied once more for a shelter.

"No," exclaimed the indignant Mrs. B., "she
shall never come under this roof again;
never! never!" she repeated, as if each repeti-
tion were a bolt to prevent admission.
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One only resource; the public must pay the
expense. So she was removed to the home of
two maidens, (old,) who had principle enough to
be willing to earn the money a charitable public
disburses.

Three years of weary sickness wasted her,
without extinguishing a life apparently so fee-
ble. Two years had these maidens watched and
cared for her, and they began to weary, and
finally to request the authorities to remove her.
Mrs. Hoggs was a lover of gold and silver, and
she asked the favor of filling her coffers by caring
for the sick. The removal caused severe sick-
ness.

By being bolstered in the bed, after a time
she could use her hands, and often would ask for
sewing to beguile the tedium. She had become
very expert with her needle the first year of her
release from Mrs. B., and she had forgotten none
of her skill. Mrs. H. praised her, and as she im-
proved in health, was anxious to employ her.
She told her she could in this way replace her
clothes, and as her board would be paid for, she
would thus gain something.

Many times her hands wrought when her

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body was in pain; but the hope that she might
yet help herself, impelled her on.

Thus she reckoned her store of means by a
few dollars, and was hoping soon to come in pos-
session, when she was startled by the announce-
ment that Mrs. Hoggs had reported her to the
physician and town officers as an impostor. That
she was, in truth, able to get up and go to work.
This brought on a severe sickness of two
weeks, when Mrs. Moore again sought her, and
took her to her home. She had formerly had
wealth at her command, but misfortune had de-
prived her of it, and unlocked her heart to sym-
pathies and favors she had never known while it
lasted. Her husband, defrauded of his last
means by a branch of the Bellmont family, had
supported them by manual labor, gone to the
West, and left his wife and four young children.
But she felt humanity required her to give a
shelter to one she knew to be worthy of a hospit-
able reception. Mrs. Moore's physician was
called, and pronounced her a very sick girl, and
encouraged Mrs. M. to keep her and care for her,
and he would see that the authorities were in-

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formed of Frado's helplessness, and pledged as-
sistance.

Here she remained till sufficiently restored to
sew again. Then came the old resolution to take
care of herself, to cast off the unpleasant chari-
ties of the public.

She learned that in some towns in Massachu-
setts, girls make straw bonnets--that it was
easy and profitable. But how should she, black,
feeble and poor, find any one to teach her. But
God prepares the way, when human agencies
see no path. Here was found a plain, poor, sim-
ple woman, who could see merit beneath a dark
skin; and when the invalid mulatto told her sor-
rows, she opened her door and her heart, and
took the stranger in. Expert with the needle,
Frado soon equalled her instructress; and she
sought also to teach her the value of useful
books; and while one read aloud to the other of
deeds historic and names renowned, Frado expe-
rienced a new impulse. She felt herself capable
of elevation; she felt that this book information
supplied an undefined dissatisfaction she had
long felt, but could not express. Every leisure
moment was carefully applied to self-improve-

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ment, and a devout and Christian exterior in-
vited confidence from the villagers. Thus she
passed months of quiet, growing in the confi-
dence of her neighbors and new found friends.
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