Lewie by Cousin Cicely

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Mrs. Elwyn silently acquiesced, and withdrew to her own room very
wretched. If she had been willing to inflict upon herself one tithe of
the pain she suffered now, in controlling her son in his infancy, how
different he might have been, as he grew up towards manhood.

Mr. Malcolm returned to the library, and told Lewie that his mother had
decided to leave them settle this matter between themselves. He should
remain there, he said; he could employ himself very agreeably with the
books. Lewie might lie on the floor and scream, or get up and study; but
until that lesson was learned, he would not leave the library, or taste
a morsel of food.

The shrieks were now renewed in a louder and more agonized tone than
ever, and were plainly heard in Mrs. Elwyn's sitting-room, where, in a
state bordering on distraction, she was hurriedly pacing the floor, at
times almost determined to insist upon being admitted to the library,
that she might take her unhappy son to her arms, and dismiss his
inexorable tutor; and then deterred from this course by the promise she
had made, and the deep respect which she could not but feel for the
young minister. She could not but confess, too, in her inmost heart,
that this discipline was really for the good of her passionate boy,
though the means resorted to seemed to her severe. Of the two, she was
more wretched than Lewie, who really had no small sense of enjoyment, in
the consciousness of the pain and annoyance he was causing to others.

The screams now ceased, and the anxious mother really hoped that Lewie
was about to comply with his tutor's wishes, and that she should soon
clasp him to her breast, wipe away his tears, and soothe his troubled
heart. She was already, in her mind, planning some reward for him for
condescending at length to yield his stubborn will. But the quiet was
only in consequence of the utter exhaustion of Master Lewie's lungs, and
he took refuge in a dogged silence, still rolling on the floor. Mr.
Malcolm sat reading, as much at his ease, and apparently with as much
interest, as if he were the only occupant of the library.

At last the young rebel was made aware, by certain ringing sounds, and
divers savory odors, that the hour of dinner had arrived; and his
appetite being considerably sharpened by the excitement through which he
had passed, he began to entertain the suspicion that he had been rather
foolish in holding out so long in his obstinacy. He really wished that
he had learned the lesson, and was free for the afternoon; but how to
come down was the puzzle now. He determined to be as ugly about it as
possible, thinking that his tutor might be pretty weary by that time as
well as he, and might hail joyfully any tokens of submission.

So Master Lewie began to call out:

"I want my dinner!"

"What is that, Lewie?" said Mr. Malcolm, looking up quietly from his
book.

"I want my _dinner_, I tell you!" roared Lewie.

Pushing his book towards him, Mr. Malcolm said, in a quiet, determined
manner:

"You know the conditions, Lewie, on which you leave this room: they will
not change, if we remain here together till to-morrow morning. This
lesson must be learned and recited perfectly, before you taste any
food."

Lewie murmured that "there was one good thing--his teacher would have to
fast too."

"As for me, I never take but two meals a day," said Mr. Malcolm; "I can
wait till five o'clock very well for my dinner; and should I be very
hungry, your mother will doubtless give me something to eat."

Through most of the afternoon, Lewie sat scrawling figures with his
pencil on some paper which was lying near, and really beginning to
suffer from the "keen demands of appetite." After sitting thus an hour
or two, he suddenly said:

"Give me the book, then, if there is no other way! I can learn that
lesson in five minutes, if I have a mind."

"I know that, Lewie," said his tutor; "no one can learn quicker or
better than you, when you choose; but you cannot have this book till you
ask me for it in a different way."

It took another hour of sulking before Master Lewie's pride could be
sufficiently humbled to admit of his asking in a civil tone for the
book; but hunger, which has reduced the defenders of many a strong
fortress, at last brought even this obstinate young gentleman to terms.
The book was handed him, on being properly asked for, and in a very few
minutes the lesson was learned, and recited without a mistake. Lewie
evidently expected a vast amount of commendation from his teacher, but
he received nothing of the kind. Mr. Malcolm only endeavored to make him
understand how much trouble he might have saved himself by attention to
his studies in the morning, and then talked to him very seriously for
some moments upon the folly and wickedness of giving way to such a
furious temper, endeavoring to point out some of the results to which it
would be likely to lead him.

One would think that two or three such contests with his tutor, in each
of which he was finally obliged to yield, would have taught our little
hero _who_ was the master, and would have led him, by timely compliance,
to avoid the recurrence of such scenes. But no! he was so unaccustomed
to having his will thwarted in any particular, that it seemed almost an
impossibility for him to submit to have it crossed. The moment anything
occurred in opposition to his wishes, his strong will rose rebellious;
and having been accustomed to carry all before it, could only with the
utmost difficulty, and after a terrible struggle, be controlled.

His kind and judicious tutor, to whom the task of instructing so wayward
a youth was by no means a pleasant one, was urged to a continuance of
his labors only by a stern sense of duty; having at heart the best good
of his pupil, and humbly trusting that, with the blessing of God upon
his efforts, he might be able at length to teach him to exercise some
control over himself. This might possibly have been effected, perhaps,
but for the unwise indulgence and sympathy of his foolishly-fond
mother, who was ever at hand, when Mr. Malcolm left, to listen to her
son's tale of grievances, by which he sometimes succeeded in convincing
her that he was most unjustly and cruelly treated.

Lewie had become tired of the loneliness and quiet of his country home,
and wished to be among other boys, and particularly to go to the school
at which his cousins, the young Whartons, had been placed. They had
lately been home for a vacation, and he had heard much of the _fun_ they
enjoyed at school; in comparison with which, his quiet life with his
mother, and under the care of his tutor, seemed very tame and dull. He
now became more restive and impatient under control, and seemed
determined to weary out his kind tutor, in the hope that he would
voluntarily relinquish his charge. In the meantime, he continued to give
his mother no rest on the subject of Dr. Hamilton's school; and she,
poor woman, knew not what course to take, between her desire to please
her importunate son, and her dislike to offend Mr. Malcolm.

At last, however, as usual, Lewie conquered; and rushing out of one
door, as he saw Mr. Malcolm enter at the other, he left his mother to
inform the young minister that he was no longer to be tutor there. As
far as his own comfort was concerned, this dismissal was a great relief
to Mr. Malcolm; but, as he told Mrs. Elwyn, he feared that her troubles
would not be lessened, but rather increased, by sending Lewie to a
public school. He had never been much among other boys; and he would
find his own inclinations crossed many times a day, not only by
teachers, but by schoolmates, who would have no more idea of always
giving up their own will than Lewie himself had, and constant trouble
might be the result.

All this Mrs. Elwyn admitted; but what could she do? She was like a reed
in the wind before the might of Lewie's determination, and he knew it.
Ah! she was learning already that "A child left to himself bringeth his
mother to shame" and sorrow; and it was with the deepest mortification
that she was obliged to confess that she had suffered the golden hours
of infancy to slip by, without acquiring over her son's mind that
influence which every mother should and may possess. The opportunity,
alas! was now lost forever. Her son had neither respect for her
authority, or regard for her wishes.

XI.

Ruth Glen.

"The more I looked, I wondered more--
And while I scanned it o'er and o'er
A moment gave me to espy
A trouble in her strong black eye;
A remnant of uneasy light,
A flash of something over bright;
Not long this mystery did detain
My thoughts--she told in pensive strain
That she had borne a heavy yoke,
Been stricken by a two-fold stroke;
Ill health of body; and had pined
Beneath worse ailments of the mind."

WORDSWORTH.

It had been determined ever since poor Miss Edwards left the Wharton's,
that the girls should be sent to the city, to boarding school, and it
was without much difficulty that Mr. Wharton succeeded in obtaining Mrs.
Elwyn's consent to his sending Agnes with them, that the cousins might
continue their education together. Indeed, as I have before intimated,
Mrs. Elwyn always listened, and answered with the utmost indifference,
when any plan respecting her daughter was proposed to her. She supposed,
rightly enough, that her own means might be required for the support of
herself and Lewie, (for she intended to close her house and accompany
Lewie to Stanwick,) and as Mr. Wharton seemed anxious to take the care
of Agnes from her hands, and she knew he could well afford to do so, she
made no objection whatever to the proposed plan. In short, Mr. and Mrs.
Wharton regarded this lovely girl, thus cast off and neglected by her
only natural protector, as their own, and cherished her accordingly.

Mrs. Wharton's health, which had delayed, for some months, the departure
of the girls for the city, now seemed fully re-established; Emily, also,
seemed better than she had done for years, and it was with light hearts,
and many pleasant anticipations, that the three cousins, under the care
of Mr. Wharton, started, for the first time, for school. At about the
same time, Lewie, accompanied by his mother, went to Stanwick, and
began his school life under the care of Dr. Hamilton.

The boarding-school at which Agnes and her cousins were placed, was
under the superintendence of Mrs. Arlington and her daughters, ladies
who had received a most thorough education in England, and who had long
kept an extensive and popular boarding-school there. The hope of passing
her declining days in the society of an only son, who had some years
before emigrated to America, induced Mrs. Arlington, accompanied by her
daughters, to follow him, and though it pleased Providence to remove
this idolized son and brother, by death, in a little more than a year
after their reunion in this country, the mother and daughters determined
to remain, and continue their vocation here, where they had very
flattering hopes of success.

Mr. and Mrs. Wharton had long known and esteemed these estimable ladies,
and though, in many respects, opposed to boarding-schools in general,
yet, as there seemed, at present, no other means for the girls to
acquire an education, but by sending them from home, they thought that a
more unexceptionable place could not be provided for them than Mrs.
Arlington's school.

Mrs. Arlington, though a woman of more than sixty years of age, still
possessed an erect and queen-like figure, a most dignified and stately
appearance, and a face of remarkable beauty. She commanded respect at
first sight, and there was no punishment greater for her pupils, than to
be reported to Mrs. Arlington, and to be obliged to meet her face to
face, to receive a reprimand. Her three daughters, Miss Susan, Miss
Sophie, and Miss Emma, taught in different departments of the school,
and were in every respect most admirably fitted for their different
stations. Miss Emma taught music; Miss Sophie, French and drawing; while
Mrs. Arlington and her eldest daughter attended solely to the more solid
branches of education.

It took some little time, of course, before our young friends felt at
home in so strange a place, and among so many new faces. But many of
the older scholars, who had been long in the school, were very kind in
coming forward to make their acquaintance, and endeavor to do away the
feeling of awkwardness, ever an attendant upon the introduction to
scenes so untried and new. Grace and Effie were very shy and silent at
first, but the peculiarly sweet and unaffected friendliness of Agnes'
manner, won every heart immediately. The younger scholars, especially,
seemed to love her the moment she spoke to them, and to feel as if in
her they should ever find a friend.

Agnes and her cousins were placed in a large room in the third story;
this room contained three beds, one of which was taken possession of by
Grace and Effie, another was occupied by two little girls, of the names
of Carrie and Ella Holt and Agnes was, for the present, alone. Mrs.
Wilkins, the housekeeper, informed her, however, that Mrs. Arlington
expected a new scholar soon, who was to be her bed-fellow. For some
reason or other, the new scholar did not arrive at the time expected,
and it was not till Agnes and her cousins had been some weeks at the
school, and had began to feel quite at home there, that they were made
aware, by the advent of an old hair trunk and a band-box, that the sixth
occupant of their room had arrived.

The new scholar's name was Ruth Glenn. She was a strange-looking girl;
very tall and thin, with a pale, greenish cast of complexion; coal-black
eyes, very much sunken in her head; hair as black as her eyes, and
colorless lips. When she smiled, which was very seldom, she displayed a
fine set of teeth, her only redeeming feature. Her manners were as
strange as her appearance. When she spoke, which was only when
absolutely necessary, or in reciting her lesson, there was a constant
nervous twitching about her bloodless lips; and she had a peculiar way
of pulling at her long, thin fingers, as if it was her full intention to
pull them off.

We cannot help being influenced by first impressions; and though Agnes
felt the sincerest pity for this strange, awkward, shy girl, and did
her best to make her feel at her ease, she could not but feel sorry that
she was to be her bed-fellow. Ruth Glenn sat by herself in the
school-room, always intently occupied with her book, having no
communication with her school-mates, and always seizing on the moment of
dismissal from the school-room to retire to her own apartment. And yet,
as far as the girls could judge, she was full of kindness and generosity
of feeling, evinced by many little quiet acts which one school-mate may
always find it in her power to do for another.

One night, the third or fourth after the arrival of Ruth Glenn at the
school, the girls sleeping in the room with her were suddenly aroused
from sleep by loud and piercing screams from little Carrie Holt. Agnes
sprang up, and was by her side in a moment. As she left her bed she
perceived that Miss Glenn was not there.

"What is the matter, Carrie? Why do you scream so, dear?" asked Agnes.

"Oh, Miss Elwyn!--that tall, white figure!--that tall, white figure! It
came and stood by me, and laid its cold white hand right on my face. It
was a ghost--I know it was--I saw it so plain in the moonlight. Oh,
don't leave me!--don't leave me, Miss Elwyn! It will come again!" And
the trembling child clung with both arms tightly around Agnes.

"I will not leave the room, Carrie," said Agnes; "but I must find out
what has frightened you so. There are no such things as ghosts, Carrie:
you have been dreaming."

"Oh no, Miss Elwyn, I did not dream that!" sobbed little Carrie; "I was
having a beautiful dream about ho-o-o-me and mother, when that cold hand
came on my cheek, and I opened my eyes, and saw that tall, white figure.
Oh, it had such great hollow eyes! I saw them so plain in the
moonlight!"

"Now lie down, dear little Carrie, till I find out what all this means,"
said Agnes. The weeping child obeyed, hugging up close to her little
sister for protection.

The light had been taken away at ten o'clock, as was the invariable
custom at Mrs. Arlington's; but Agnes opened both shutters, and admitted
the bright moonlight into the room, making every object to be discerned
almost as plainly as in the day-time. She then stepped to her own bed.
Miss Glenn certainly was not there. She went to the door of her room,
and found it locked on the inside, as she had left it when she went to
bed. Miss Glenn, then, must still be in the room. Agnes walked around
it, carefully examining every object: she then went into the closet, and
felt carefully all around the walls. She began to think there was
something very strange in all this; and the other girls, all of whom had
been wide awake ever since they were aroused by the screams of little
Carrie, were sitting up in their beds in a great state of agitation and
alarm.

"I will not stay in this room another night!" said little Carrie; "I
wish we dared to go down to Mrs. Arlington. Let's all go down together
to Miss Emma, and ask her to come up here."

"No, no; hush, children!" said Agnes. Then she called, as loudly as she
dared, without awaking those in the neighboring rooms:

"Miss Glenn! Miss Glenn! where are you?"

"Here I am! What do you want of me?" answered a smothered voice.

"Mercy on us!" shrieked Carrie and Ella in a breath, and springing with
one bound on to the floor--"mercy on us! she is under our bed!"

Agnes looked under the bed, and could just distinguish something white,
huddled up in one corner under the head of the bed.

"Miss Glenn! what do you mean?" exclaimed Agnes, in a tone of amazement.
"Are you trying to frighten these poor children? Come out here
directly."

With all Agnes' gentleness, she had sufficient spirit when roused, and
she was now really indignant at what she supposed was a cruel attempt to
frighten little Carrie and Ella. Ruth Glenn was three or four years
older than Agnes, but yet she submitted at once to the tone of authority
in which she was addressed, and came crawling out from under the bed.

"I think it's a little too bad," said the trembling little sisters,
crying and talking together; "it's real mean, to wake us up, and
frighten us so. I mean to tell Mrs. Arlington of you to-morrow, Miss
Glenn. I know our mother won't let us stay here to be frightened so!"

Ruth Glenn sat down on the edge of her own bed and said nothing, but
Agnes noticed that she shivered, as if with cold.

"Come, Miss Glenn, lie down," said Agnes, "and let us see if we can have
quiet for the rest of the night; we shall none of us be fit for study
to-morrow, I fear."

Ruth Glenn obeyed quietly, and was soon asleep, but the others had been
so agitated that it was a long time before their minds were sufficiently
calmed for repose. When startled by the rising bell, they got up tired
and unrefreshed, and with no very amiable feelings towards the author of
the disturbance in the night. Miss Glenn went about dressing as quietly
as usual, saying nothing to any one; till little Ella, who was a
spirited little thing, just as she was leaving the room, turned about
and said:

"Now, Miss Glenn! I am going right down to tell Mrs. Arlington about
you."

To the surprise of all, this cold silent girl sat down on the bed, and
wringing her hands, and rocking back and forth, and crying most
piteously, she begged little Ella not to tell of her.

"I will do anything I can for you, Ella," said she, "I will help you in
your lessons, whenever you want any help; only don't tell Mrs.
Arlington; she will send me away perhaps, and then what shall I do!" She
then implored Agnes to use her influence with the little girls, and her
cousins, to ensure their silence on the subject, promising not to
disturb them again, if she could help it.

"I don't know what I went to your bed for, Carrie," she said, "I did not
want to frighten you."

"Why did you act so strangely then, Miss Glenn?" asked Agnes, "were you
asleep?"

"I don't know; I cannot tell; don't ask me;" was all they could get from
Miss Glenn, who continued to weep and wring her hands.

Though apparently very poor, Miss Glenn possessed some few rare and
curious things, which she said her father, who had been a sea-captain,
had brought her from other countries, and by means of some of these, she
succeeded in securing the silence of the little girls. Grace and Effie
were easily induced by the remonstrances of Agnes, and partly by pity
for Miss Glenn's evident distress, to promise not to betray her. None of
the occupants of that room felt fit for study that day, except Miss
Glenn. She sat alone, as usual, and studied as perseveringly as ever.
This was only the beginning of a series of nocturnal performances,
continued almost every night, with every morning a repetition of the
same scene of begging and remonstrance with her room-mates, to persuade
them not to betray her to Mrs. Arlington. Sometimes, as Miss Glenn was
quietly leaving her bed, Agnes would wake and follow her, determined to
see what she would do, and to prevent, if possible, her waking the other
girls. At times she would seat herself upon a chest in one corner of the
room, and commence a conversation with some imaginary individual near
her; then she would move silently round the room, and sitting down in
some other part of it, would talk again, as if in conversation with some
lady next her. Then she would open the window very quietly, and look up,
and down, and around, talking all the time in a low tone, but in a much
more lively and animated manner than was usual with her in the day-time.
She would sometimes cross over to the bed where Grace and Effie Wharton
were sleeping, but just as she was about laying her hand on one of them,
Agnes would touch her, and ask her what she meant by wandering about so
night after night, and tell her to come directly back to bed.

"Oh," Miss Glenn would answer quietly, "I have only been talking to the
ladies, and holding a little conversation with the moon and stars--don't
mind me--go to bed--I will come."

But Agnes would answer resolutely,

"No, Miss Glenn, I will not leave you to frighten the girls again; you
must come back to bed with me, and let me hold your hand tightly in
mine." And Miss Glenn would obey immediately.

When the moon was shining brightly into the room, these performances of
Miss Glenn's were only annoying, but when the nights were very dark, and
nothing could be seen in the room, it was really horrible to hear this
strange girl chattering and mumbling, now in one corner, now in another,
sometimes in the closet, sometimes under the beds; and one night, in a
fearful thunder-storm, she seemed to be terribly excited, and when the
lightning flashed upon the walls, the shadow of her figure could be seen
strangely exaggerated, performing all manner of wild antics.

This conduct of Miss Glenn's puzzled Agnes exceedingly: she could not
decide in her own mind whether the girl was trying to frighten them,
whether she was asleep, or whether she had turns of derangement at
night. Neither of these suppositions seemed exactly to account for her
singular actions. Her evident, and, Agnes doubted not, real distress, at
the possibility of Mrs. Arlington being informed of her nocturnal
performances, and the sacrifices of every kind that she was willing to
make to ensure silence, convinced Agnes that it was not done merely to
alarm them; her vivid remembrance of all that she had said or done in
the night, and her answering questions, and coming to bed so readily
when addressed by Agnes, without any appearance of waking up, led her to
suppose it was not somnambulism; and as Miss Glenn never showed any sign
of wandering of mind in the day time, Agnes could not suppose it to be
derangement. Miss Glenn was a perfect enigma; night after night
disturbing her room-mates with her strange performances, and every
morning going over the same scene of earnest expostulation and entreaty,
accompanied by violent weeping, to induce them not to betray her to
Mrs. Arlington. Poor little Carrie and Ella kept the secret bravely,
though, on the night of the thunder-storm, they were so terrified by
Miss Glenn's conduct, that, wrapping themselves in the bed-blankets, and
persuading Agnes to lock the door after them, they went out, and sat
upon the stairs till morning. The very next day, two sisters who slept
in another room received tidings of the death of their mother, which
hurried them home; and as they were not to return that quarter, little
Carrie and Ella, with Agnes to intercede for them, requested to be
allowed to take their vacated place. Mrs. Arlington readily acquiesced,
as, she said, it would be much better to have four in each room.

Thus things went on, till, one night, Agnes was horror-stricken to find
that Miss Glenn was endeavoring to climb out of the window. As I have
said, they were in the third story of the building; and the distance to
the ground being very great, the unfortunate girl would inevitably have
been dashed to pieces upon the flag stones below, had not Agnes
suddenly caught her, and, with a strength that astonished herself,
succeeded in drawing her back into the room.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13