Part 10 (1/2)
”What do you mean?”
”As if you did not know perfectly well that you were taking that--that Smith--” she paused in vain for an epithet; but the mere name sounded more opprobrious than any she could have selected--”for his money!”
”What do you mean? Mr. Smith hasn't much money; he may have enough to live on; but I can't help that.”
”Margaret, don't quibble with the truth. You know well enough that he will have it all. Who else is there for the old man to leave it to?”
”What old man?”
”Why, old Smith, of course! You can't pretend you don't know who he is, and you have been artful enough to keep it all from me! You knew if I heard his Christian name it would all come out! I don't know what your father and mother will say! Mrs. Champion Pryor has been calling here to-day, and told me the whole story, and how you have been seen walking the streets with him for hours. I would scarcely credit it.”
”His Christian name! what's that got to do with it? He can't help it!”
Margaret's first words rang out defiantly enough; but her voice faltered on the last, as her mind made another painful plunge after vanished memories. Cousin Susan rose, and rang the bell herself; more wonderful still, she went out into the entry, closing the door after her while she spoke to Jenny, and when the girl had run rapidly upstairs and down again, returned with something in her hand.
”I knew Jenny had some of the vile stuff,” she said triumphantly; ”she was taking it last Friday, when I tried to persuade her to send for the doctor, and be properly treated for her cough.” And she thrust a large green gla.s.s bottle under Margaret's eyes with these words on the paper label:
”ERIGERON ELIXIR.
”An Unfailing cure for
”Ague. Asthma. Bright's Disease. Bronchitis.
Catarrh. Consumption. Colds. Coughs.
Diphtheria. Dropsy.
”(We spare our readers the remainder of the alphabet.)
”All genuine have the name of the inventor and proprietor blown on the bottle, thus:
”ALCIBIADES SMITH.”
A sudden light flashed upon poor Margaret, showing her forgotten piles of bottles on the counters of village stores, and long columns of unheeded advertis.e.m.e.nts in the country newspapers. She stood silent and shamefaced.
”What will your father say?” reiterated Cousin Susan. Dr. Parke's reputation with the general public was largely founded on a series of letters he had contributed to a scientific journal exposing and denouncing quack medicines.
”I didn't know,” said Margaret, helplessly, wondering that the truth could sound so like a lie, but unable to fortify it by any a.s.severation.
”Why, you must have heard about the Smiths: everybody has. They have cut the most ridiculous figure everywhere. They came to Clifton Springs once while I was there; and they were really too dreadful; the kind of people you can't stay in the room with.” Cousin Susan had not talked so much for years, and began to feel that the excitement was doing her good, which may excuse her merciless pelting of poor Margaret. ”You were too young, perhaps,” she went on, ”to have heard about Ossian Smith, the oldest son, but the newspapers were full of him--of the life he led in London and Paris, when he was a mere boy. The American minister got him home at last, and a pretty penny old Smith had to pay to get him out of his entanglements. He had delirium tremens, and jumped out of a window, and killed himself, soon after--the best thing he could do. But you must have heard of Lunetta Smith, the daughter; about her running away with the coachman; it happened only about three or four years ago. Why, the New York _Sun_ had two columns about it, and the _World_ four. All the family were interviewed, your young man among the rest, and the comic papers said the mesalliance appeared to be on the coachman's side. She died, too, soon after; you must have heard of it.”
”No, I never did. Father never lets me read the daily papers,” said Margaret, a little proudly.
”Well!” said Cousin Susan, with relaxing energy, ”I don't often read such things myself; but one can't help noticing them; and Mrs. Champion Pryor has been telling me a great deal about it.”
”And did Mrs. Pryor tell you anything about my--about young Mr. Smith?”
”Oh, she said he was always very well spoken of. He was younger than the rest and delicate in health, and took to study; and his father had a good deal of money in time to educate him. They say he's rather clever, and the old man is quite proud of him; but he can't be a gentleman, Margaret--it is not possible.”
”Yes, he can!” burst out Margaret; ”he's too much of a man not to be a gentleman, too!”
”Well,” said Cousin Susan, suddenly collapsing, ”I can't talk any longer. I have such a headache. If you have asked him to call, I suppose he must come; but I can't see him. What's that? a box for you? more flowers? Oh, dear, do take them away. If there is anything I cannot stand when I have a headache, it is flowers about, and I can smell those lilacs you carried last night all the way downstairs, and through two closed doors.”