Chapter 6

Later, when he opened the evening paper, she sat and watched him. Surely those lines of care were new, now that he was not smiling fondly upon her. Oh, foolish, selfish wife! Rising gently, her long silken tea-gown trailing behind her, she stood beside him, one slender white hand upon his shoulder.

"Well, dear, what now? Another new gown?" he asked, with his old, sweet smile.

She pressed her lips in a slow, reverential fashion, upon the broad white brow, another pang at her heart. Then she spoke:

"Not this time. Harry, dear, let's go to Mrs. Wickham's to board."

"Mrs. Wickham's!" he echoed. "Why, you wouldn't stay in her dull little place a week."

But even as he spoke there flashed through his mind in rapid calculation, "Twenty dollars a week there, forty here; eighty dollars a month saved; nearly a thousand dollars a year."

"Don't you like it here?" were his next words, as he glanced around the luxurious suite.

"Yes," she said, "except there are too many people. It is so noisy."

"Very well, then, we will try it; anything to please my darling," and he drew her close, wrapped in his arms as one might lull a restless child.

The move was made, and Eleanor found that she was not as much fatigued as she had often felt after a day's lounging with a novel. Her husband thought it only a new whim; but as it was not expensive one, he could not remonstrate. When he wanted to take her driving, she playfully told him she was learning to walk--horses made her nervous.

The first step, she thought; now for the next. It came to her almost by magic. In a little rear hall-room sat Margaret Dewees, clicking away at her typewriter. A strong, clear-headed girl who had maintained herself these ten years, and had put by her savings. She was soon to be married to a stalwart young farmer, the lover of her early youth. They had been working and waiting. From the first she took an interest in the young wife, and it was given to her energy and common sense to help a suffering sister. Together they plotted and planned. Eleanor's lassitude gradually passed away under vigorous rubbing and brisk walks.

Margaret's trousseau was a thing to be considered. From Mrs. Woodruff's surplus stock of stylish gowns and garments the country girl's outfit was deftly concocted. The young wife could sew neatly and rapidly. When all was ready the sum of two hundred dollars lay in her writing desk. Her grand piano, too large for the new quarters, was removed from storage to a dealer's, and was sold for three hundred more. She wrote at once to an uncle in a Western city; told him of her little efforts, and asked what she might do with her mite. He was a real estate man and promptly invested it in a lot in the rising town of Duluth.

In exchange for her services as seamstress, Margaret taught Eleanor the use of the typewriter. When she was married she left the instrument, for the summer months, in Eleanor's care. A nominal rent was agreed upon, and this was easy to pay, as Margaret's engagements were transferred to the new operator, while she, herself, attended to chickens and cows, and her six feet of husband.

Eleanor's spirit of enterprise did not stop here. She obtained pupils on the type-writer machine at five dollars each. She shipped a lot of old party dresses, crushed and out of style, to the costumer's on B---- street, and saved the proceeds. Every time her husband handed over her allowance of pin money, she put at least half of it in her "strong box."

It was hard to hide all this activity and cheerfulness from him, but she did. With her woman's enjoyment of a little mystery, and her high resolve to show herself worthy of him, she kept in the old rut as nearly as possible when he was at home. He saw only that she was stronger, and it lightened his labors.

"My little woman does not ride, or read, any more," he said one evening, in the indulgent tone he used towards her.

"Why, yes, I do read. Don't you see my little library there?"

"Yes, but it seems to me I miss something."

He missed the litter of trashy novels he had been wont to see.

"I told you I was learning to walk;" she added, with a smile, "I really do walk somewhere every day."

"That pleases me most of all," he said in his cheery way, "but what will Dr. Bull think. You know he prescribes rest and quiet."

"I don't care one bit; I have long since cut his acquaintance."

* * * * *

The end of the year rolled round. Eleanor watched her husband's face with ever increasing anxiety. One evening he sat buried in thought from which all her endeavors could not rouse him. He did not feel well, he said. All night he tossed and muttered. Calculations and figures were uppermost.

He was up early, as usual, and away. Eleanor hastened her preparations, and carefully counted her little hoard--the earnings of months. Early in the afternoon she came home with the proceeds of her last batch of type-writing, glowing with exercise, and the happiness of contributing at least some hundreds to meet her husband's creditors. He was there, lying on the sofa, pale and hopeless. Forgetting all else, she flung herself beside him with a sob.

"Oh! Harry, my dearest! Tell me what it is that is killing you--I have a right to know."

"It is ruin, Eleanor. I have brought you to poverty--you whom I would have given my very life to make happy."

"You are talking in riddles, Harry," she exclaimed, rallying from her alarm. "Am I not the happiest woman in the world? And don't you see how well and strong I am?"

She coaxed the whole story from his lips. Then with affected lightness, she said: "Is that all? Why, you frightened me terribly; I thought you were ill--had caught some horrible disease or other. See here!"

As she spoke she ran to her desk, took out her treasure, and poured it into his hands in her impulsive fashion.

"Eleanor! What is this?" staring like one dazed, from her radiant face to the notes in his hands.

"This? Why, this is only your silly wife's laziness and selfishness in another form."

Then her story had to be told. Their combined efforts still fell short of the required sum, but she triumphantly produced the deed to the Western land. For a season there were caresses and even tears, of mutual love and thankfulness.

"My precious wife!" he exclaimed, as he clasped her close. "What a treasure in you, if all the money in the world should fail!"

"But your piano!" he said, with regret overreaching his appreciation of her sacrifice.

"Let it go," she merrily replied. "I could not play worth listening to--this you must admit. It was just an expensive, cumbersome toy--that's all."

Next day the balance of the debt was borrowed upon the security of the western deed, and Henry Woodruff was a free man once more. When the five hundred dollars jumped to thousands in a sudden boom, he bought a neat home. Here, Margaret, the valued friend, supplied produce from her farm.

Eleanor was never quite content till Harry had looked up her two maligners, and brought them to the pleasant domain where she presided, and which her painfully awakened energy had helped to buy. In time she told her secret, and thanked them for that ten minutes' gossip. In time, too, sons and daughters came and found a mother prepared by self-denial for the exigencies of life.

The Iron Box

A MYSTERY

Twilight dropped its soft, somber curtain upon a handsome southern home. Sadly out of keeping with the peaceful landscape and cheerful hearthstone, were the feelings of a man who crept close to the window shutter, and peered cautiously within the cosy apartment. And brighter grew the twinkle in his rapacious eyes as the brilliant objects upon which he glared shone in the lamplight.

Upon a table in the center of the room was a mosaic casket, the raised lid disclosing a collection of jewels rarely to be found in the possession of a single individual.

With glowing cheeks and radiant eyes Netta Lee surveyed her treasures; but the glow and sparkle were for the tall figure beside her, however her feminine pride might be gratified at this splendid array. So long as Richard Temple honored her among women with his heart's devotion, there needed not the glitter of gems to complete her happiness.

"Our friends are most kind with their wedding gifts," said the prospective bridegroom, "these are royal!--"

"Yes, and oh, Richard! just see these pearls. Exquisite, aren't they! One hundred years old, and a present from my grandmother."

"What a queer, old-fashioned case," said Mary, a younger sister taking up the flat, square box of red morocco, where nestled in its white satin lining lay the milky brooch and ear-rings.

"So much the more valuable; in this love-of-the-antique age," remarked Bertha Lee. "Netta, who sent these gorgeous corals?"

"Aunt Winifred;--wasn't it good of her?"

"Pooh! No more than she might do for each of us," replied the saucy girl. "Heigho! I wish my fate, if I have one, might appear. Couldn't you innocently suggest to the old lady that I have no jewels for the all-important occasion--a bridesmaid, too?"

"Why not select from these?" said Richard. "There is enough here, and to spare, for all. Let's see--pearl, diamond, amethyst, coral, emerald, turquoise, filagree--I declare it is a veritable jeweler's display."

"You must recollect, though, Richard, I had some of these before."

"Her friends seem to have discovered her weakness," observed Mrs. Lee, entering the room.

"Now, mother, you shall not say that. You forget the carloads of things that have come--nice, useful, domestic articles----"

"Richard, what is it? What is the matter?" suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Lee, looking at him.

In alarm Netta glanced at his face, which she saw was clouded from anxiety, or pain. At once she closed the casket and went to his side in great concern.

"What is it, dear? Are you ill?"

"Not ill in body, my love; hardly comfortable in mind," was his reply, as he sat down upon the davenport close by. "Sit here beside me, and I will tell you what is troubling me. No, don't go," he added, as the others started to leave the room, "it concerns us all."

"Don't look so alarmed," he said, reassuringly, to his betrothed. "It is only this. News reached Columbus to-day that Baywater's gang is near Villula, and as usual their progress is marked by bloodshed and outrage. The feature that concerns me most is that if I am detailed for duty, it will of necessity postpone our marriage."

Various expressions broke from the ladies, and Netta exclaimed in terror:

"But you will be in danger, Richard. Can no one else go?" and she clung to him as though her frail clasp could keep him in safety at her side.

"I fear not. The state militia must do its duty. You would not have me skulk in the hour of danger. But there really is no danger for me, Netta. The sole trouble is in the change of our plans."

But they remembered too distinctly Baywater's last visit to derive the comfort conveyed in his words.

"And where must you go? What must you do?" tearfully asked Netta.

"I can scarcely tell. We shall be required to watch the premises of the citizens, and to convey all valuables to places of safety. The policy is not to provoke a battle, but to entrap them nearer and nearer the city by holding out baits till they can be apprehended in a body. To do this, we shall be divided into small squads, perhaps only two persons allotted to a station."

It was apparent to the elder lady that the plans had already been arranged, and Temple's duties mapped out.

The man at the window strained his ears to catch the topic which evidently excited profound interest. A word or two reached him, and he saw Temple point to the box of jewels. Then, as the door opened, he heard him say:

"Remember--the first thing to-morrow--Dry Thicket."

Ere the departing visitor could come upon him, the straggler bounded over the fence and hurried away. But he had learned enough.

A sound, real or fancied, caused Richard Temple to glance down the starlit highway, in time to see the fleeing human figure. In newborn apprehension he returned to the parlor door, and was admitted in some wonder by the ladies, who were still discussing the situation.

"Is Lawrence at home?" he asked.

"Yes--why?"

"I think I'll turn in with him to-night, if he will give me half a bed. I fear you are not safe with those jewels in the house."

"Certainly," responded Mrs. Lee with ready hospitality. "You may have a whole bed and room, too, if you like."

"Thanks, madam, I prefer to concentrate forces. Give me the box, and you ladies go to rest. We'll protect you;" he valiantly added, as the young son of the house now appeared.

Richard Temple was not mistaken. A little after midnight the watchers heard a noise as of sawing, or filing. Peering from an upper window they located the sound at the parlor shutter, and soon discerned the figure of a man in a crouching attitude. Swiftly and noiselessly the young men stole down and out by a back door, and were creeping upon the burglar to capture him, when a short, quick bark from the house dog startled the man, who fled precipitately. The pursuers fired, but it was too dark to see beyond a few yards.

The ladies, aroused and alarmed, were soon reassured, but persisted in sharing the remainder of the vigil.

Early next morning, leaving the servants to infer that they were bound upon a berry excursion, the little party set out, Richard bearing the mosaic box, the girls carrying other valuables, and Lawrence armed with a larger wooden box and a pick. Their destination was Dry Thicket, so called from the exceeding dryness of the earth beneath the almost impenetrable trees of native growth. These trees were so closely interlaced by a tough vine peculiar to the soil, that it was necessary to cut one's way, or force it by dint of strength.

In order to accomplish this feat the ladies had donned homespun dresses kept for such excursions, and the gentlemen were suitably provided. Winding through an arable field they descended the narrow path that led into the thicket, and were soon pushing and cutting their way against the stout lattice of vines. When far into the interior they found themselves in a natural arbor free from undergrowth and utterly secluded. A fallen log afforded a seat for the ladies, and the custodians of the box at once proceeded to bury their treasures of gold and plate, silver and jewels. An hour sufficed for the task. When scattering, dry leaves over the fresh earth the party returned to Lee Villa somewhat the worse for wear.

"Until these dangerous invaders shall have left the community, or are arrested, I think we should arm the negro men on the plantation and be prepared for possible surprises," were Richard Temple's parting words, as he took leave for Columbus, twenty miles distant.

Villula was altogether inland, and hence an easy prey to outlaws. The nearest railway station was at Silver Run, two miles away. The first down train brought a hasty letter from Temple, stating that he and Lawrence Lee were detailed to convey four fine horses belonging to Major Lester, to a place of safety, and that the threatened section had been well picketed.

There was at once a general hiding out of valuables, live stock and provisions, the numerous swamps and thickets affording secure harbors all over the section. A reign of terror existed during the next two weeks. The dreaded marauders were at work, and stories were rife of insult to women, and outrages upon men whom they hung by the neck till almost dead unless they revealed the whereabouts of their treasures. Thus far they had baffled the vigilance of the authorities. The country was thinly settled, and the peculiar features of the landscape afforded facilities both for concealment and escape.

One evening the ladies of Lee Villa sat watching the resplendent sunset from the front piazza, when a ragged, barefoot urchin came up the road turning somersaults with surprising agility. He righted himself up at the gate, then entered and sidled rather doubtfully toward the group.

"Here's somethin' fur Miss Lee. Be you her?"

"Yes," said Netta, receiving a dirty note from the boy's dusty fingers. "Where did you get this?"

"He gave it to me--he did," nodding his head down the road, "an' he gimme this, too!" he added triumphantly, holding up a shining coin, as he darted away again at his evolutions.

Netta deciphered the following lines from Richard:

"We are encamped in Dry Thicket with the horses, all safe thus far. Do not attempt to come; you could not find us. Keep a brave heart. We will soon entrap the rascals. (Messenger best I can find).

"Faithfully,

"R.T."

About nine o'clock one morning a party of ten men, headed by the notorious Baywater, rode up the single street of Villula, sending terror to the hearts of unprotected women. Not apprehending an attack in daytime, the two young men were on duty elsewhere, and the negroes were in the cotton fields.

Passing through the town amid a great dust and clatter, they drew rein at the villa. The ladies came to the door in response to the captain's imperious halloo.

"We've come to find out where the Lester horses are, madam--and what's more," he added with a brutal oath, "we intend to know!"

"I have no information to give you," calmly returned Mrs. Lee.

"Perhaps you won't tell us where that box of diamonds is, either," he sneered.

To this there was no reply. The three girls were pallid from apprehension of the next move. Apparently a proposition was made. The leader shook his head. After a brief parley he dismounted, and with five of his men, strode across the lawn to the negro quarters. An old negress sat at the door, smoking her pipe, and knitting a coarse yarn sock. A bright mulatto boy was crossing the back yard with a water bucket.

In vain the outlaws sought to extract from the old woman the whereabouts of her master with the horses and jewels. She was in reality as ignorant as they.

"Come now, Auntie," said the captain in wheedling tones, "tell us and we will make you free. You won't have to work any more."

"Oh, go 'long!" was her contemptuous rejoinder, "I'se free as I want to be."

"Why, you old fool!" he roughly retorted, "you don't know what freedom means. You shall wear a silk dress and ride in a carriage and have a gold chain."

"I speaks gold chain!" echoed the woman tossing her grey head, "you po' white trash can't come it ober dis chile wid yer crick-cracks. Jes you go 'long. I'se got my bacon and greens, an' a good cotton coat. Yer can't fool dis chile wid yer fine talk!"

"Curse the old hag! Let's try the boy. You! Sirrah! Come here."

With ashen cheeks the boy followed them into an outhouse, while the Captain flourished a stout whip.

"Oh! mother," cried Netta, "don't let them whip him! He never was whipped in his life!"

Mrs. Lee advanced a few paces from the back gallery whence they had been watching the proceedings and called, "Charlie!"

The boy sprang towards his mistress, his captors not venturing to be too rash at the outset.

"I want this boy for a moment," explained the lady. In sullen silence they waited.

"Going to buy him up to secrecy," derided the Captain, "but I guess we'll work it out of him when he comes back. We've got him, sure, and can afford to wait."

But Charlie did not come back. Thrusting a bill into his hand his mistress said: "Fly for your life, to Columbus and tell Col. Scale that we must have protection. There is no train. Take the old country road and lose no time!"

Nor did the terrified boy let the grass grow under his steps. Ere the next sun rose he was in Columbus, footsore, but safe.

Again baffled, the desperadoes took horse, and held a consultation.

"If I thought they knew," muttered the Captain, "by ---- they would be made to tell. There's no other way--we must search that d---- thicket. You know what Jem heard at the window the other night."

With this they galloped down the road, taking a more circuitous route to Dry Thicket than the little path hidden from view behind Lee Villa. In an agony of foreboding Netta exclaimed: "Oh, mother, we must save them. Let's get ready and go at once. I know every part of Dry Thicket!"

Hurriedly donning the homespun dresses, the mother and daughters set out, leaving a maid in the house, and the old cabin "Granny" still smoking serenely over her knitting. They were soon on the spot where the jewels had been buried. The shock of the moment may be better conceived than described, when they saw an open pit, a pile of freshly-turned earth, and no trace of their carefully-concealed treasures! The blood receded from every face. Gone--all gone! The exquisite bridal presents--the diamonds from her betrothed, the ancient pearls, Aunt Winifred's family jewels, the heirlooms of plate--all vanished as utterly as if they had never been.

In sheer feebleness the stunned party sank down upon the prostrate log. They now observed the charred remains of a camp fire, and shreds of grey blanket adhering to the tenacious Tie-Vine.

"What _shall_ we do?" broke from Netta in despair. The loss of her superb ornaments for the time took the place of every other sentiment. Even the safety of her loved ones was forgotten.

"Well," said Mary, recovering herself, "it is no use grieving. We had better be looking for Lawrence and Richard. You know those villains hung Colonel Harris by the neck till he was nearly dead, because he would not tell where his money was."

"Hush, Mary," said her mother, "don't suggest such horrible things."

But their search was unavailing. That night was one of agonizing suspense. Next day the noon train brought Charlie with a note from Colonel Scale, saying that Lawrence would return home as soon as orders could reach him.

The story of the missing jewels was freely discussed, and friends came in numbers to condole with the bride-elect, and rehearse similar depredations that had come to their ears.

At last flashed the news that the State Militia had surrounded the daring invaders, by a well-executed maneuver, and had disarmed them. The leader fought desperately and was mortally wounded. The prisoners were forced to reveal the place where their ill-gotten gains were stored, and the owners were publicly summoned to identify their property. But the Lee jewels were not found, and the gang obstinately disclaimed all knowledge of them.

Suspense in regard to them was, however, soon to be relieved. Two more days of waiting, and the close of a lovely afternoon was made memorable by the return of the wanderers to Lee Villa. A torrent of questions and incidents so assailed them that they could not intelligibly answer the one, or comment on the other.

"And, oh! Richard," faltered Netta, "they have stolen our box--all my beautiful presents!"

"And the spoons," chimed in Mary, loyal to the family heirlooms.

"You'd better say the money," said Bertha with conviction. "I would rather have lost anything else than all that gold and silver."

"Only give us a chance," said her brother appealingly, "and we will relieve your anxiety on this point."

"You have it! You have it!" cried the girls excitedly crowding upon him.

"No," said Richard laughing heartily, while the brother endeavored to extricate himself. "He hasn't it but if I can have a hearing I will tell you of its fate. We hoped you would not miss it. Nor would you," he added, looking archly at Netta, "if you had obeyed my injunction not to try to find us."