Mrs. Hart

“ She sighed regretfully when the guest of honor, Mrs. Rhinehart, spoke of the deftness and pleasant appearance of her hostess's waitress.
"Yes," Mrs. Hart said, swelling with pride, "she is a treasure. I only wish I could keep her."
"She's going to get married, I suppose. They all do when they're good," sympathized the guest.
"No, but she simply won't do cooking, and I really haven't work enough for two servants in this little house."
The guest sat up and took notice.
"You don't mean to tell me that you are letting a girl like that slip through your fingers? I wish I had known about her. ”

“ Hart. "I have been here long, but I have seen no one whom I know. I am alone."
"And are you able to go alone about this business of which you speak--this business 'of life and death?' Have you any help? Is it a thing which you could commit to the police?"
"No," said Mrs. Hart. "I came here in search of--of a friend; but I have not been able to find him."
"Are you alone, then?" asked Obed, in profound sympathy, while his face and his voice still showed the deep feeling of his heart. "Have you no one at all to help you? Is this a thing which you must do by yourself? ”

“ Hart, mournfully. "You don't need your poor old nurse now."
Lord Chetwynde shook his head.
"No others can supply your place," said he. "You will always be my own dear old nurse."
Mrs. Hart looked up with a smile of ecstasy.
"I am going away," said Lord Chetwynde, after some further conversation, "in a few days, and I do not know when I will be back, but I want you, for my sake, to try and be cheerful, so as to get well as soon as possible."
"Going away!" gasped Mrs. Hart, in strong surprise. "Where to?"
"To Italy. To Florence," said Lord Chetwynde. ”

“ Hart stood up. "Who are these? Is not this Mr. Windham, and is not this Miss Lorton? If not, who are they? That's fair, I think. I don't want to be in the dark amidst such universal light."
"Is it possible that you don't know?" said Mrs. Hart, wonderingly. "Why should they conceal it from you? These are my dearest children--my friends--the ones dear to my heart. Oh, my friend, _you_ will understand me. This is Lord Chetwynde, _son of the Earl of Chetwynde_, and this girl is Zillah, daughter of Neville Pomeroy--Lady Chetwynde--his wife."
"God in heaven!" exclaimed Obed Chute. ”

“ I am too heartsick to write, Ruth.”
Hetzel was returning the note to Mrs. Hart, when Arthur stretched out his hand for it.
“Am I not to read what my own wife has written?” he demanded fiercely.
He took in its contents at a glance. Even this sheet of common prison paper was sweet with that faint, evanescent perfume that clung to everything Ruth’s fingers touched. Letting it drop to the floor, “I can’t stand it,” he cried in a loud voice, and left the room.
They heard the vestibule door slam behind him.
“He is mad,” said Mrs. Hart. “He will do himself an injury.” ”

“ Mrs. Hart called her "Zillah!" To whom did that strange name belong? To one, and to one alone. That one was the daughter of General Pomeroy, whom he had married, and who was now his wife. That one he hated with a hate which no feeling of duty and no bond of gratitude could either lessen or overcome. Was he not married? Had he not seen that wife of his a thousand times? Had he not associated with her at Chetwynde Castle, at Lausanne, on the road, and in Florence? ”

“ Hart asked Corona to go in and see Jacky, Frances went too. The sick boy, a child with a delicate, wasted face and large, bright eyes, lay in a tiny bedroom off the kitchen. The air was hot and heavy. Mrs. Hart stood at the foot of the bed with her tragic face.
"We have to set up nights with him now," she said. "It's awful hard on me and my man. The neighbours are kind enough and come sometimes, but most of them have enough to do. His medicine has to be given every half hour. ”

“ You and I should be used to the virulent gossip of Naples by this time. There is nothing to hide, and you are at liberty to hear the circumstances and judge for yourself. Mrs. Hart is a young woman of the utmost merit and talents. She is in poor circumstances and has been recommended to me by a friend that she may study singing with Galluci and fit herself for the operatic stage. It could not be done to the same advantage in England. ”

“ Mama Hart, big, plump and perspiring, puffed here and there like a large, rosy engine, giving impossible orders, and receiving sharp answers to foolish questions. Lillian, the æsthetic, practiced her most graceful poses before the large mirror in the parlor; Martha rushed about, changing the order of the furniture, and Papa Hart, just come in from work, paced the rooms disconsolately, asking for dinner. ”

“ Luckily, I have a flask of brandy in my desk.”
He rubbed some brandy upon Arthur’s temples, and poured a drop or two between his lips.
“You fan him, will you?” he asked of Hetzel.
Mrs. Hart proffered her fan. Hetzel took it, and fanned Arthur’s face vigorously.
Mrs. Hart looked on for a moment in silence. At length she said, “Well, I can’t wait here. I am going to the prison.”
“Oh, to be sure; I had forgotten,” said Romer. “I’ll send a man to obtain admittance for you.”
“May I also bear you company?” inquired Mr. Flint.
Mrs. Hart replied, “That is very kind of you. ”

“ Cherry said he begun to have a notion, though, while Hart was talking, how the thing might be worked so there wouldn’t be no real trouble if it could be fixed so Hart’s aunt wouldn’t stay in Palomitas more’n about a day; and he come right on down to the Forest Queen to see if he could get the boys to help him put it through. He left Hart clearing out the room he kept flour and meal in––being the cleanest––trying to rig up for his aunt some sort of a bunking-place. ”

“ Hart’s aunt said. “It rejoices my heart you’re doing all these good deeds––and all the others Mr. Hill’s been telling me about. I must kiss you again.”
96
“Oh, what I’ve done ain’t nothing,” Hart said, pulling himself together while she was kissing him. “Land’s cheap, cheap as it can be, out here; and I give the Company such a lot of freight they’re more’n willing to oblige me; and as to the melodeon––”
Hart sort of gagged when he got to the melodeon, and Santa Fé Charley––who’d come up while they all was talking away together––reached across the table and played his hand. ”

“ Romer asked. “I mean her side of the story. I’m familiar with the other side myself.”
“I know absolutely nothing about it,” said Mr. Flint.
“All I know,” said Hetzel, “is what Arthur has let drop in conversation, from time to time, during the last few months. But then, you know, he was looking at it from the point of view of the prosecution. I should imagine that if any one would understand the true inwardness of the matter, it would be Mrs. Hart.”
Mrs. Hart said, “I know that she is as innocent as the babe at its mother’s breast. ”

“ Her words stirred the deep fountains of his better nature. “If you are innocent,” said he, “God forbid that I should make you otherwise. But you accepted my invitations and presents so readily, that I supposed you understood me.” “What could I understand,” said she, “except that you intended to make me your wife?” Though reared amid the proudest distinctions of rank, he felt no inclination to smile. He blushed and was silent. The heartless conventionalities of life stood rebuked in the presence of affectionate simplicity. ”

“ Hart’s letter and the day before Christmas, when she was expected, but in that time the house was put in perfect order, although where the disorder before was the deacon could not guess. But his wife knew, and went through a regular cleaning process, even to the big ball-room over the stable, which she swept and mopped and dusted, looking askance at the piles of butternuts and walnuts on the floor and wondering what Mrs. Hart would think of such litter should she chance to go in there. ”

“ Annie ran to the piano, and played as if inspired, saying to her father:
"Let every note tell you that we can take care of ourselves, and you and mother too, if necessary."
The words were prophetic. The strain had been too great on Mr. Hart. That night he had a stroke of paralysis and became helpless. But he had trained his daughters to be the very reverse of helpless, and they did take care of him with the most devoted love and skilled practical energy, making the weak, brief remnant of his life not a burden, but a peaceful evening after a glorious day. ”

“ Hart, had better visit her as early to-morrow as they will admit you, and—”
“Of course I will,” interpolated Mrs. Hart.
“—And tell her Arthur’s side of the story. When she understands that, she’ll feel like another woman. Then he can see her, and talk to her, and find out the facts of the case, and lay them before the authorities. It seems to me that this is the plain course to take.”
“And meanwhile, meanwhile!” cried Arthur, wringing his hands.
“Come,” said Hetzel, “show your grit. ”

“ Perhaps it was that he had seen the cheerful blaze from the fireside of some of his people, as he came homewards, and stopped to speak some playful word with the urchins before the door; but, as he sighed, he wondered if he could have been happier had he not denied to his starving heart all human, household love. “Perhaps I have wronged my nature,” he thought. “It may not be required of me to lead this lonely life.” And then—he never could tell what brought the recollection so vividly before him at that moment—there came a yearning thought of the little Miriam of years ago—his child-friend. ”

“ She tripped demurely by his side, looking so beautiful in her clean white dress, and her curls in such rich profusion flowing round her delicate throat. He could not bear to pain her happy heart by the sad news of their parting, so he drew her gently to his bosom for the last time, while he waited for her father’s return; and they were all alone but the kitten purring in the sun, and old Margery bustling in and out, intent on household cares. They did not talk much, but now and then she would pass her hand caressingly over his face, or he would bend down and kiss her tenderly. ”

“ The table-talk was genial and wholesome, with now and then a sparkle of wit, or a broad gleam of humor.
"My good wife there, Miss Edith," said Mr. Hart, with a twinkle in his eye, "is a very sly old lady. If she does wear spectacles, she sees with great discrimination, or else the world is growing so full of interesting saints and sinners, that I am quite in hopes of it. Every day she has a new story about some very good person, or some very bad person becoming good. If you go on this way much longer, mother, the millennium will commence before the doctors of divinity are ready for it." ”

“ Hart having done good turns for most everybody, one 82 time and another––his friends should be willing to take some trouble to get him out of it. Hart’s aunt, he said, come from a quiet part of Vermont, and likely would be jolted bad when she struck Palomitas if things was going the ordinary way––she being elderly, and like enough a little set in her ways, and not used much to crazy drunks, and shooting-matches, and such kinds of lively carryings-on. ”

“ Ever and anon the clear sound of a bugle swelled out, and then died away in the distance—while the baying of hounds told of courtly sport. Mary looked on every side, but neither dwelling nor human being was to be seen, but jangling the bells of her harness she caught the spirit of life which the bugle implied, and rode gayly onward.
Reaching a lovely glade where the birches trembled lightly over a stream, Hugo dismounted, and they sat down upon the bank. The girl feared to disturb the silence of her father, so she nestled to his side and pulled the violets for lack of something to do. ”

“ Mayst thou be blessed in domestic life, and trifle no more with the feelings of poor girls; not even with those whom others have betrayed and deserted.”
Luckily, the girl had sufficient presence of mind to assume a false name, when arrested; by which means her true name was kept out of the newspapers. “I did this,” said she, “for my poor mother’s sake.” With the money given by Lord Henry, the silk was paid for, and she was sent home to her mother, well provided with clothing. ”

“ Mary drew to the side of the youth, and laid her hand in his, but he gently removed his own and placed it upon the jewelled hilt of his sword. Mary’s cheek turned to crimson; she faltered, and, stung with pride, the tears gushed to her eyes. At this moment, they heard a low growl above their heads, and splinters of bark were scattered at their feet; looking up, they perceived a panther just in the act to spring, with his terrible eyes fixed upon the victims below. Instantly the sword of the young man sprang from its sheath, and the ferocious beast alighted, in his deadly leap, upon its point. ”

“ Hart, in a tone of gentle sarcasm. "You won't have this, and you won't have that! Very well, then. I wish you good-night." And he turned away.
"What!" cried Philip, turning after him, "desert me when I want you to be my friend!"
The old man's heart warmed to the young fellow; he admired everything in him--his hot blood, his impetuosity, his obstinacy, his generous imperiousness.
"I am your friend," said Mr. Hart, "and I will continue to be so if you will let me. But when a man says of something that is mine, as Margaret is--ah, shake your head! ”

“ Hart, who was his nephew and every one thought would be his heir.
"But he has made such a plucky fight, got the respect of every one, gone right along, and succeeded splendidly in his profession. He married foolishly, too. Poor girl, not a cent, and not the kind to help him one bit, you know,—no style, can't say a word for herself. She's done a good deal to keep him back, but he has managed to survive even that. ”