The Gold Brick. Ann S. Stephens

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ outburst of grief almost irritated her, for, like her child, she rather craved a monopoly of suffering. All at once a wild apprehension seized upon her. What if Kate had heard—what if she knew that the brig had gone down with every soul on board, and had no strength to speak it out! Frightened by this new dread she started up and stood over the weeping girl.

      "Tell me—tell me all you have heard," she almost shrieked. "If you don't want to see me drop dead at your feet, before the face of my child, speak out!"

      Katharine looked up; amazement checked her tears, and the pupils of her beautiful eyes dilated.

      "I have nothing to say, Mrs. Mason; I have not heard a syllable, how could I?"

       "And are you so very sorry for us?"

      "Does it make you angry, because I can't keep back the tears? Oh, it seems as if I could die, if any one would feel for me."

      "Why, Katharine, what is your trouble?"

      "Nothing—nothing—I'm not in trouble."

      Mrs. Mason began to look serious, an old suspicion flashed across her mind. She was not a woman of much natural refinement, and the innate vanity of her nature more than compassion spoke out in her next words.

      "Katharine, speak out—is it about Nelson Thrasher you are taking on so?"

      The blood rushed over that white face like a sudden sunset, then the poor girl grew pale again, and purplish shadows came out under her eyes, leaving them, oh, how mournful.

      "You need not look so frightened, Kate—there's no harm in it if you do love him, only you haven't got my spirit, that's all."

      "What!—what do you mean, Mrs. Mason?"

      "What do I mean? why nothing worth mentioning." A peculiar curve of the handsome lip, as Mrs. Mason said this, made the young girl shiver from head to foot.

      "Yes, but you have a meaning when you speak of my not having a spirit. Oh, tell me what it is!"

      "Why nothing, Kate, only I thought you would have more pride than to take up with another woman's leavings."

      "Another woman's leavings!" repeated Kate, all aghast; "another woman's leavings!"

      "That was what I observed," answered Mrs. Mason, with a slight toss of the head. "Boasting isn't in my line, or I could point out a certain person who gave Nelse Thrasher his walking papers more than once, as if I would condescend to him, when his superior stood hat in hand."

      "You—you—was it so? when, when?"

      "Really, Miss Allen, you take away one's breath; of course it was before I married John Mason, as if there could be a choice."

      The poor girl was thunderstruck—that beautiful face drooped slowly to her bosom, and she seemed to be shrinking into a shadow. At last, she lifted her head with a wan smile.

      "That was four long years ago, more than four years ago," she cried—"Four years ago."

      "Well, what of that; four years does not destroy the truth."

      "I don't believe it," said Katharine, very quietly, "there's some mistake."

      "Mistake! what does the girl mean? as if I didn't know when a man persecutes me with his love. Makes me a point blank offer, and goes off to sea in despair when I marry his superior. Mistake, indeed!"

      "No," persisted the girl, "I don't believe it; no woman could refuse him if he once offered. No woman on earth; it isn't in nature."

      "Indeed, you have a mighty high opinion of Nelse Thrasher, as if he was fit to be mentioned in the same day with Captain Mason. I wonder at your daring to say these things to me."

      Katharine did not hear her; she was searching the past, urged and goaded in her memory by keen pangs of distrust.

      "Besides," she exclaimed, "he has been home since then, and never come near you, not even as a friend."

       "I'd like to see him have the impudence," was the angry rejoinder.

      Katharine seemed bewildered a moment, and then clasped her hands in passionate despair. "What's the use—oh, what's the use of saying this! It's terrible, and they both in the deep, deep sea."

      Here Mrs. Mason's vanity broke down, and her true womanliness asserted itself.

      "God forgive us for quarreling about them," she said, really penitent. "If they only come back, I shall be as glad for your sake as you will be for mine. Don't mind what I said, Katy, it isn't worth remembering. Tell me now, are you really engaged to Thrasher?"

      "Yes." This little word came faltering through lips as cold and white as snow.

      "And you never told of it?"

      "What did I say—engaged! No, we are not engaged. How could I tell you so!"

      "Well, well, there's no harm in it if you are. God send the Floyd and all hands safely back."

      Those large eyes were lifted—oh! how pleadingly—to heaven, and then Katharine began to gather her cloak more closely around her.

      "You're not going!" said Mrs. Mason, ashamed of her unwomanly outbreak. "Just take off your cloak, and have a cup of tea. Rose and I haven't had ours yet; I fell to thinking over my work, and forgot it."

      "No," said Katharine, more quietly, "I must go now; mother will be anxious to hear. You forget, Mrs. Mason, that my half-brother is on board the brig."

      "Well, true enough, my head was so full of that fellow, Thrasher, that I forgot that it might be some other person you were crying about. It's hard, waiting and waiting in this way; but we must have patience, I suppose."

      "I'll go now," said the girl, rising.

      Little Rose, with the sweet instinct of childhood, came up to where the young girl stood, and lifted up her arms for a kiss.

      Katharine bent down, with a flutter of the heart, and left a kiss on the little rosebud of a mouth, but her lips quivered, and the child grew sad under the mournful caress.

      When Katharine Allen was gone, Mrs. Mason sat down to her work again. She was a vain, self-sufficient woman, but not in reality an unkind one. The distress which she had just witnessed left her in low spirits. She was naturally of a hopeful disposition, and, in truth, was quite incapable of the deep feeling which had disturbed her in Katharine. Something would turn up and set all things right, she was sure of that; contrary winds, heavy freight—there was some such reason why the brig did not come to port; what was the use of fretting while these chances remained. As these consoling thoughts passed through her mind, she plied her needle with increasing diligence. Rose must have her new frock embroidered before her father came home. A few more leaves in the vine that enriched the skirt, and it would be completed. Mrs. Mason was almost out of bread, or any thing from which bread is made, but she was a woman to cover unsuitable garments with useless embroidery, rather than turn her hand to any thing by which her necessities could be supplied. She would rather have seen little Rose hungry a thousand times than ill dressed.

CHAPTER СКАЧАТЬ