While they were so occupied Mr. Cleve had closed the parlor door, shutting himself in with his nephew for a long talk over their past and present lives and future arrangements—though the earthly future of the aged man would necessarily be very brief.
The old gentleman wished rather to hear than to talk, and so he only briefly reverted to the main events of his own life—his early disappointment in love when his betrothed bride was taken ill and died a few days before their 301intended marriage, and was buried in her bridal dress on her wedding day.
“Yet, no; she was not buried, only her left-off body was buried. She lived! Oh! how vividly! how blessedly! how potently she lives! And I shall soon see her again! After seventy years, my boy! after seventy years! But what are they, in view of the life everlasting?” said the aged man in conclusion of this reminiscence.
Cleve Stuart made no reply, but pressed his uncle’s hand in reverential silence.
Then the old man spoke of the nephews who had borne his own name and expected to inherit his estate, but who had both died, unmarried, of wounds received in battle. Then he spoke of his long, vain search of his niece’s son, Cleve Stuart, and of the chance by which he found him.
“And now, my boy, that I have found you, let me say that I find you all that I could wish, and your young wife—charming! But tell me about her, Cleve. Who is she?” he inquired.
“Palma is the daughter of the late James Jordan Hay and the granddaughter of the late John Hayward Hay, of Haymore, in the North Biding of Yorkshire, England,” replied Stuart.
“Why—indeed! I knew the old squire. When I went to Europe in my young manhood I reached England in the autumn, and through a letter of introduction got an invitation to Mr. Storr’s, of Hoxton, where I stayed for the Melton hunts and met Mr. Hay, of Haymore. Yes, the Hays, of Haymore, are an ancient, historical, almost, I might say, an illustrious family. I congratulate you, my boy, but more on the personal merit of your young wife than on her family connections. Who represents the house now at Haymore? Which of the three lads I found there?”
Stuart, as briefly as possible, gave him the later family history.
“What a fatality! All these fine boys to pass away in early manhood! And the son of Cuthbert, the second brother, you say, inherits the manor. I remember Cuthbert well. He was intended for the church. They called him Cuddie. Now, tell me how you came to meet Palma. She was the daughter of the youngest brother, James, you say.”
“Yes; and after the death of her parents she was adopted 302by Judge and Mrs. Barrn, who were my guardians. I met Palma in their house when I first went there to live, and so knew her from her infancy up. I won her pure affection then, and never afterward lost it, thank Heaven.”
“An excellent knowledge and a blessed beginning. Now, tell me how it was you lost your Mississippi plantation.”
“I have not lost it. It is legally mine, but of no more use to me than would be so many acres of waste land in the Sahara. The land is, indeed, a desert, and the buildings a mass of charred ruins.”
“Through the war?”
“Yes, of course. Mansion house, stables, barns, mills, negroes’ quarters fired and burned to the ground; stock all driven off; negroes conscripted. The place is a ruin and a wilderness; it would take many thousand dollars to reclaim it.”
The old man sighed, but made no reply.
Then Stuart told him frankly of the desperate straits to which he had been reduced at the time when his uncle’s letter came to him so opportunely.
Mr. Cleve was shocked.
“If I had known! If I had only known!” he said.
But in all his narrative Stuart never mentioned the name or existence of either Lamia Leegh or Gentleman Geff. It was bad enough, he thought, to trouble the old gentleman’s calm spirit with the tale of want; but it would have been far worse to have darkened and depressed it with the story of falsehood and treachery.
The early dinner bell brought the family together, and around the table were only happy faces. All the painful past was for the time forgotten.
The afternoon was beautiful.
The large old sleigh was brushed out, lined with buffalo skins and blankets, and brought around to the front door by two swift horses. And the four—Mr. Cleve, Mrs. Pole, Stuart and Palma—took a ride; the first pair seated on the back seat, the second on the front seat, and Josias, the coachman, on the box.
They took the road that skirted the base of the mountains, on the inside, and went in a circle around the plantation. On this road, under the shelter of the mountains, 303stood the negroes’ quarters—log huts, large and small, from one room to two, three or even four, according to the necessities of the occupants. The men and boys were all away at such farm work as the season permitted, and the women were engaged in washing, ironing, cooking, or carding and spinning wool. Their open doors showed their occupations, and showed also the bright pine wood fires that so warmed their huts as to permit these open doors.
The sleigh passed too swiftly for the party in it to return half the nods and smiles with which their passage was greeted.
“Uncle,” said Palma, “you appear to me like a patriarch of old living among his tribe.”
“Yes, dear child, with this exception—the patriarchs were men of large families, with many sons and daughters, and sons-in-law and daughters-in-law, and innumerable grandchildren and great-grandchildren to the third and fourth generation, to rise up and call them blessed. And I—have none.”
“Oh! uncle, dear, you have us. We love you; indeed, we do. And we will serve you as tenderly and devotedly as any children could.”
“I know it, my dear; I know it. And I thank the Lord for sending you to me.”
“And I thank the Lord that you let us come. And, oh! uncle, I wish we could multiply ourselves into a tribe of many generations to serve and bless you.”
“All in good time, my little love; all in good time,” said the old man with a twinkle in his glowing brown eyes.
The three miles’ circuit of the road was completed, and they reached the house just as the winter sun was winking out of sight behind the western peak.
“The first day the ground will admit of walking I shall go on foot to make the acquaintance of all your interesting people, Uncle Cleve. I liked the glimpses I got of them as we flew by,” said Palma as she gave her hand to her husband and sprang out of the sleigh.
“Yes, my child, so you shall,” replied the old man as he in his turn alighted with the assistance of both Stuart and Palma. “So you shall, my dear. And there are some few neighbors and some distant relatives of ours with whom you must soon make acquaintance.”
304“Who are they, uncle, dear?” inquired Palma as she entered the house on the old man’s arm, followed by Stuart and Mrs. Pole, while ’Sias drove the sleigh around to the stables.
“I will tell you presently, dear,” replied Mr. Cleve.
In the hall Palma laid off her fur cloak and hood and gave them to Hatty to take upstairs. Stuart helped his uncle off with his overcoat and muffler.
When they had all returned to the oak parlor, where the great fire had been replenished, and were seated around the hearth enjoying the glow, and while Polly was passing in and out setting the tea table, Mr. Cleve said:
“We have no very near relations left in this world. We who sit here are the nearest of kin to each other. Still, you know, Virginians are as clannish as highlanders.”
“Yes, indeed. I remember that much of my beloved mother. No matter how distant the relationship or how humble or even unworthy the individual, my dear mother always held sacred the claims of kindred. My poor father, who was not so clannish, used to laugh at her a little and ask:
“‘Why do you not take in all the human race at once, since all are Sons and daughters of our first parents, and brothers and sisters of ourselves?’”
“Well, he was right,” commented the old man.
“But excuse me for interrupting you, uncle. You were speaking of our kindred in this country, and we are anxious to hear of them.”
“Well, my boy, there are the Gordons, of Gordondell; they are our third cousins, and live about seven miles south of this on the Staunton road. They are a large family of three generations, living in one house; but they are all Gordons. Then there are the Bells, of the Elms; only two, a bachelor brother and maiden sister, living on their little place just beyond Wolfswalk. And the Clydes, my dears, who live in the village, and keep a general store. There is a young father and mother and half a dozen children. That is all. They are all more or less injured by the war, and are poor, and—some of them—somewhat embittered by their losses; but they are our kindred, and we must have them all here to meet you in the coming Christmas holidays.”
305“Tea is on the table, ma’am,” said Polly.
And the party left the fireside and gathered around the table.
The sleigh ride had given them all fine appetites, and they enjoyed their repast.
After it was over, and the evening worship was offered up, the little family separated and retired to rest.
And so ended the first day at Wolfscliff; the first, also, of many happy days.
The cousins did not wait to be invited. The news of the new arrival at the Hall was soon spread through the neighborhood by the negroes, and neighbors and relatives lost no time in calling on the young pair.
And yet these were not so truly calls as visits, for when any one came to the house they arrived in the morning to stay all day and take dinner and tea. They expected this, and it was also expected of them.
The very first to come were the Gordons, who arrived early in the morning a few days before Christmas. They came in a big ox cart, and filled it. There was old Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, an ancient couple nearly ninety years of age, bowed, shriveled and white-haired, yet, withal, right merry; and their bachelor brother and maiden sister, Mr. Tommy and Miss Nancy Gordon, as aged and as merry as themselves; then there was the son and daughter, Col. and Mrs. George Gordon, both stout, rosy and full of the enjoyment of this life, and their middle-aged bachelor brother and maiden sister, Mr. Henry and Miss Rebecca Gordon. And there were seven young men and three young women between the ages of fifteen and twenty-seven. But, really, it would take up too much time and space to tell you all their names and ages and characters. They were a happy, rollicking set of young people.
They had not been much hurt either in mind, body or estate by the war, and were neither depressed nor embittered.
Then came the two old folks from the Elms. And, finally, the Clydes, from the village.
And besides these, neighbors came; old families who had been in the land, as the Cleves had, from the first settlement by the English—the Hills, the Ords, and the Balls—all of whom lived within ten miles of Wolfscliff.
306And all of these kinsfolks and neighbors were warmly welcomed at Wolfscliff, and well liked by Cleve and Palma.
Christmas brought its usual festivities at the home, but also a snowstorm that commenced on the morning of Christmas Eve and continued all day and all night and all the next day, covering the ground two feet deep, and toward the close of the second day, when the wind rose, drifting in places several yards deep.
This made it impossible for the families at Wolfscliff to leave the house; but Mr. Cleve held service in the large drawing-room, where all his people from the plantation, as well as the members of his household, were collected.
And when the service was over Christmas gifts were distributed, mostly in articles of clothing, to the servants. To Palma he gave a casket of pearls and rubies that had been his mother’s; to Stuart he gave a fine horse, with new saddle and bridle, that he had within a few days past purchased from a neighbor.
Cleve and Palma gave to him an olive-green velveteen dressing-grown and skullcap to match, which they had purchased for this very purpose; and to the servants each they gave a piece of gold coin, having nothing else to offer them. And then the congregation dispersed joyfully.
The snowstorm continued, with a high wind. The contemplated dinner party for the twenty-seventh had to be given up. The state of the road made travel impossible for several days.
One of the first expeditions abroad was made by Josias, who, mounted on a stout mule, tried to reach the post office at Wolfswalk. It took him all day to go and come, but he succeeded, and late in the evening brought back letters and parcels that had been forwarded from New York to the Stuarts—letters and parcels that bore the London and the Haymore postmarks. The first were from the London solicitors of the Hays, of Haymore, and contained the information that certain railway, mining and manufacturing shares had been transferred from the name of Randolph Hay to that of Palma Hay Stuart, and were at her disposal, and included the bonds—for, after all, self-indulgent Will Walling had decided not to take the long journey to the mountains of Virginia in the midst of winter, but to forward 307the documents by mail, and without even an explanatory letter from himself.
“I think you will have no trouble in finding the funds for the reclamation of your Mississippi estate,” said John Cleve with a smile as he received the information which Stuart seemed proud and glad to give him. “Your wife’s cousin is a noble, generous fellow. Whom did he marry?”
Cleve Stuart was for a moment dumfounded by the question. He had not so far risen above conventionality as not to feel much embarrassment in replying.
“Miss Judith Man, of California,” answered Palma, on seeing that Stuart had found nothing to say.
“Ah! Who was she?” next inquired Mr. Cleve.
“The best, the noblest, the loveliest girl I ever met with in my life!” warmly responded Palma.
“Ah! that is well, very well! Of what family was she?” persevered the old gentleman, who was completely unconscious of the embarrassment his questions were causing.
“I really do not know, uncle, dear,” answered Palma.
“I do not think we ever inquired,” replied Stuart, speaking at last.
“Ah! well, it does not matter, so that she is a good, true girl, worthy of the noble young fellow,” said Mr. Cleve.
“She is all that, uncle,” said Stuart.
Palma and Stuart then opened their letters. They were from Ran and Judy, telling them of their arrival at Haymore, their reception of Gentleman Geff and his “lady,” and, indeed, of all the events that transpired in the first few days of their stay at the Hall, and of which our readers are already informed; making no mention of the transfer of stocks from Ran to Palma; but renewing and pressing their invitation that the Stuarts would visit them in England during the next summer. Of course, Ran and Judy at the time of writing their letter had not heard of Cleve and Palma’s removal to West Virginia.
Palma was so little a worshiper of Mammon that she was much more delighted with the faithful affection revealed in these letters than with the accession of fortune that accompanied them.
She flew upstairs to answer them. She was earnest in her thanks for Ran’s magnanimity in giving her so noble a share in their grandfather’s fortune; but she was even more 308earnest in her appreciation of Judy’s friendship and their mutual invitation to herself and Cleve. She had, however, to explain why neither of them could take advantage of the offered opportunity of visiting their friends in England, by telling them of her own and her husband’s change of residence and new-found happiness in the country home of their aged uncle, and of the impossibility that they should leave him while his presence on earth should be spared to them.
Cleve Stuart also answered Ran’s letters in very much the same strain, giving the same thanks with much deprecation, and offering the same explanations.
These letters were all taken to the post office the next morning.
In another week the weather moderated and the snow melted. But traveling was, if possible, more difficult than before, for the roads were sloughs of mud.
But within doors, at Wolfscliff, all was pleasant, comfortable and happy.
Only Mrs. Pole complained of having too little to do. But her special grievance did not last very long, for——
On the morning of the fourteenth of February Palma Stuart received from Above, in trust for earth and heaven, a most precious valentine, in the form of a pair of twins, a fine boy and girl. And no more grateful and delighted mother dwelling on the “footstool” that day raised her heart in prayer and thanksgiving to the Throne.
No prouder father lived than Stuart, no happier uncle than John Cleve, nor more important nurse than Mary Pole. She had enough to do now, both day and night, to nurse mother and babes.
On the very first visit Stuart was allowed to make at the bedside of his wife, when he had kissed her with deep feeling, and had admired the twins to his heart’s content, she said to him:
“Cleve, dear, of course our boy must be named John Cleve, after dear uncle and yourself. But our little girl? Will you please ask uncle if he will let us call her Clarice, after his own dear angel love?”
“Well thought of, darling. I know he will be pleased. I will ask him as soon as I go downstairs,” warmly responded Cleve Stuart.
309“And you must go now, sir, if you please. She must be quiet and go to sleep if she can,” said Mrs. Pole from the eminence of her new authority.
Stuart meekly bowed his head and obeyed.
The result of Palma’s proposal was this: Early in the afternoon, when she had had a good sleep, had awakened and taken refreshment, and was resting in peace and bliss, the old gentleman came quietly into the room, sat down beside her, and said softly:
“I thank you, my dear. May the Lord bless you, and may He bless your dear babes—little Clarice and John.”