On her arrival at Temple Street, Katy was promptly admitted by Michael, and shown in the sitting-room, where Mrs. Gordon and Grace were waiting for her.
"I was very sorry to hear that your mother is sick, Katy," said the former; "and I should have paid you a visit, instead of sending for you, if I had not been so much exhausted by my journey from Baltimore."
"You are very kind, ma'am."
"Did Dr. Flynch call upon you at the first of the month?"
"Yes, ma'am; and we paid the rent as usual," replied Katy.
"I am sorry you did so, Katy; you should have told him you were not in a condition to pay the rent."
"I couldn't tell him so, he is so cold and cruel."
"I think you misjudge him, for he has a really kind heart, and would not have distressed you for all the world. Besides, I told him he need not collect your rent any time when you did not feel ready to pay it. I hope he gave you no trouble?"
"No, ma'am; I didn't give him a chance, for I paid him as soon as he demanded it; though it took nearly all the money we had. I hope you will excuse me, ma'am, but I haven't liked him since the trouble we had a year ago, when he accused my dear mother of telling a lie."
"Perhaps he was hasty."
"I forgive him, ma'am; but I can't help thinking he is a very wicked man," answered Katy, with considerable emphasis.
"I hope not so bad as that; for I am sure, if you had told him it was not convenient for you to pay the rent, he would not have insisted. But you want some assistance Katy?"
"Yes, ma'am; that is, I want to borrow some money," replied Katy, blushing deeply.
"That's just like you," interposed Grace, laughing. "I suppose you will want to give your note this time."
"I don't care about giving a note, but I mean to pay the money back again, every cent of it."
"And the interest too, I suppose?"
"Yes," said Katy, though she had not a very clear idea of the value of money, as an article of merchandise.
"Don't distress her, Grace; you forget that her mother is very sick, and she cannot feel like listening to your pleasantries," said Mrs. Gordon.
"Forgive me, Katy," replied Grace, tenderly.
Katy burst into tears, though she could not exactly tell why. She was overcome with emotion as the beautiful young lady took her hand, and looked so sorrowfully in her face. She was not used to so much kindness, so much sympathy, so much love; for it seemed as though both Grace and her mother loved her—that their hearts beat with hers.
"Don t cry, Katy; I am sorry I said a word," pleaded Grace. "I would not have hurt your feelings for all the world."
"You did not hurt my feelings; you are so kind to me that I could not help crying. I suppose I am very silly."
"No, you are not, Katy; now dry up your tears, and tell us all about it," added Mrs. Gordon, in soothing tones. "How long has your mother been sick?"
"Almost two weeks."
"What ails her?"
"She has got a fever; but she is much better to-day. The doctor says she hasn't got it very bad; but she has been very sick, I think."
"Who takes care of her?"
"I do, ma'am."
"You! She must need a great deal of attention. But who takes care of her at night?"
"I do, ma'am. I have been up a great deal every night."
"Poor child! It is enough to wear you out."
"I wouldn't mind it at all, if I had nothing else to trouble me."
"What other troubles have you?"
"I can't make any candy now, and haven't made any for nearly a fortnight; so that we have no money coming in. We spent nearly all we had in buying our winter clothing and fuel. It worries me very much, for we had plenty of money before mother was taken sick."
"I hope you haven't wanted for anything."
"No, ma'am; for when my purse was empty, I came up here, only yesterday, to borrow some of you, if you would please to lend it me."
"Certainly, I will, my child. I am very glad you came."
"Michael would make me tell what I wanted, and then he let me have three dollars, and offered to let me have as much as I wanted. I didn't know as you would like it if I borrowed money of your servant."
"You did just right: and I am glad that Michael has a kind heart. Now, how much money do you want?"
"I thought I would ask you to lend me twenty dollars; and just as soon, after mother gets well, as I can gather the money together, I will pay you—and the interest," she added, glancing at Grace.
"Now, Katy, that is too bad!" exclaimed Grace, catching her by the hand, while a tear started from her eye. "You know I didn't mean that."
"I know you didn't; but I don't know much about such things, and thought likely it was right for us to pay interest, if we borrowed money."
"I should be very glad to give you twenty dollars, Katy, if you would only let me; for I am rich, as well as mother, and I certainly should not think of taking interest."
"We will say no more about that," interrupted Mrs. Gordon. "I will let you have the money with the greatest pleasure, for I know you will make good use of it."
"I will, indeed."
"And you must promise me that you will not distress yourself to pay it again," continued the kind lady, as she took out her purse.
"I will not distress myself, but I will pay it as soon as I can."
"You must not be too proud."
"No, ma'am; but just proud enough."
"Yes, that's it," replied Mrs. Gordon, smiling. "Pride is a very good thing in its place. It keeps people from being mean and wicked sometimes."
"That's true pride," added Katy.
"Yes; for there is a false pride, which makes people very silly and vain; which keeps them from doing their duty very often. You have none of this kind of pride."
"I hope not."
"Your friend Simon Sneed, whom the mayor spoke to me about, affords us a very good example of the folly of cherishing false pride. Where is Simon now?"
"He keeps a store in Washington Street. He is a salesman now, and I don't think he is so foolish as he was."
"Perhaps the lesson he learned did him good. But I am keeping you away from your mother, Katy. Who stays with her while you are away?"
"Mrs. Sneed—Simon's mother."
"Then she is a good woman."
"And Simon is very kind; he has done a great many things for me, and I hope I shall be able to do something for him one of these days."
"That's right, Katy. Think well of your friends, though others speak ill of them," said Grace. "Ah, there comes the carriage. I am going home with you, Katy, to see your mother."
"You are very kind, Miss Grace."
"Here is the money," added Mrs. Gordon, handing her a little roll of bills.
"Thank you, ma'am," replied Katy, as she placed the money in her porte-monnaie. "But——"
Here she came to a full stop, and her face was as crimson as a blush rose, but she took out the silver watch, and approached Mrs. Gordon.
"What were you going to say, Katy?"
"I brought this watch up," stammered she.
"What for?"
"You know I am a poor girl, my mother is a poor woman, and we didn't want you to think you were giving us the money, for we are very proud; that is, my mother is very proud, and so am I; and——"
Here Katy drew a long breath, and came to a full stop again, unable to say what she wanted to say.
"If you want anything else, Katy, don't hesitate to mention it; for I will not do anything to mortify your pride, even if it is unreasonable," said Mrs. Gordon. "I understand you perfectly; the twenty dollars is not a gift, but a loan."
"Yes, ma'am; but if we should never be able to pay it, then it would be a gift."
"No, it wouldn't."
"I think so; and so I brought this watch, which you will please to take as security for the payment of the loan," said Katy, much confused, as she offered the watch to Mrs. Gordon.
"My dear child, I do not want any security. Your word is just as good as your bond."
"But I would rather you would take it. My mother is prouder than I am, for she wasn't always as poor as she is now."
Katy suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth, when she recollected that this was a forbidden topic.
"Some time you may tell me all about your mother; and I will call and see her to-morrow, and help you take care of her."
"Please to take the watch, ma'am."
"If you very much desire it, I shall do so, though I cannot take it as security. Is this the watch you carried to the pawnbroker?" said Mrs. Gordon as she took the treasure.
"Yes, ma'am. It belonged to my father."
Mrs. Gordon turned over the watch, and looked at it with considerable interest, as she thought of it as a memento of the dead, and how highly it must be prized by the poor woman.
"Mercy, what's this!" exclaimed she, starting back, and staggering towards her chair.
"What is the matter, mother?" cried Grace, running to her side. "Are you ill?"
"No, Grace; that inscription!" replied Mrs. Gordon, faintly, for she seemed very deeply moved, and on the point of swooning. "Bring me a glass of water."
There was no water in the room, but Michael was in the entry, and was dispatched to procure it. He returned in a moment, and when Mrs. Gordon had in some measure recovered from the sudden shock she pointed to the inscription on the back of the watch:—
"What does, it mean, mother? I do not see anything very strange about that."
"I have seen this watch before," she replied, stopping to think. "Where did your mother get this watch, Katy?" she asked, as it occurred to her that she might be arriving at a conclusion too suddenly.
"It was my father's."
"Where did your father get it? Did you ever hear your mother say?"
"Yes, ma'am; her father, who was a rich Liverpool merchant, gave it to her husband, my father," replied Katy, who felt justified in revealing what her mother had told her to keep secret.
"Mercy!" gasped Mrs. Gordon, almost overcome by her emotions.
"What is the matter, mother? What has all this to do with you?" asked Grace, anxiously.
"Come here, Katy, my child," continued Mrs. Gordon, as she drew the little candy merchant to her side, and warmly embraced her. "Your mother, Katy, is my sister, I have scarcely a doubt."
"Why, mother! Is it possible?" exclaimed Grace.
"It is even so. Mrs. Redburn, whose name we have often heard mentioned without thinking it might be the wife of John Redburn, my father's clerk, is my sister. I had given her up, and have regarded her as dead for more than ten years. But, Grace, get my things, and I will go to her at once."
"Is that your portrait, ma'am?" asked Katy, pointing to the picture of the mischievous lady.
"No, child; that is your mother's portrait."
"I almost knew it."
"It was taken when she was only sixteen years old. She was a gay, wild girl then. I suppose she is sadly changed now."
The thought completely overcame Mrs. Gordon, and throwing herself upon a sofa, she wept like a child. She thought of her sister suffering from poverty and want, while she had been rolling in opulence and plenty. Grace tried to comfort her, but it was some time before she was in a condition to enter the carriage which was waiting at the door.
"What an adventure, mother!" exclaimed Grace, as she seated herself by the side of Katy; and it was evident she had a vein of the romantic in her composition.
"Do not talk to me, Grace. My heart is too full for words."
"But I may talk to Katy—may I not?"
"Yes."
"Well, cousin Katy," laughed Grace; "I shall call you cousin, though you are not really my cousin."
"Not your cousin?" said Katy, a shade of disappointment crossing her animated features.
"No; for Mrs. Gordon is not really my mother; only my stepmother; but she is just as good as a real mother, for I never knew any other. Dear me! how strange all this is! And you will go up and live with us in Temple Street, and——"
"I can't leave my mother," interrupted Katy.
"You mother shall go, too."
"She is too sick now."
Grace continued to talk as fast as she could, laying out ever so many plans for the future, till the carriage reached Colvin Court. I will not follow them into the chamber of the sick woman; where Mrs. Gordon, by a slow process that did not agitate the invalid too violently, revealed herself to her sister. The fine lady of Temple Street had a heart, a warm and true heart, and not that day, nor that night, nor for a week, did she leave the sick bed of the sufferer. There, in the midst of her sister's poverty, she did a sister's offices.
It was three weeks before Mrs. Redburn was in a condition to be moved to her sister's house; and then she was once more in the midst of the luxury and splendor of her early life. One day, when she had improved so much as to be able to bear the fatigue of a long conversation, Mrs. Gordon, who had thus far declined to discuss any exciting topics with the invalid proposed to have everything explained. Each had a very long story to tell; but as the reader already knows Mrs. Redburn's history, I shall only briefly narrate that of Mrs. Gordon and the Guthrie family, after the departure of the former.
Mr. Guthrie, the father of both, died two years after the flight of Margaret—Mrs. Redburn—when of course there was a large property to be divided. Diligent search was made for Margaret in America but her husband had declared to some person in Liverpool that he had an engagement in Montreal. This place was thoroughly canvassed, but without success. No trace of the runaways could be discovered. Agents were sent to various parts of America, and no tidings of Margaret had ever reached them.
About two year after her father's death, Jane—Mrs. Gordon—had married a very wealthy gentleman from Baltimore. He was then a widower with one child—Grace Gordon. She had come to America with him, and resided in Baltimore till his death, a period of only two years. Then, having never liked to live in that city, she had removed to Boston, where she had a few friends. She had invested her money and resided there, very happily situated, and with no desire to return to her native land.
Her father's estate had been divided, and the portion which belonged to Margaret was held in trust for seven years—when the law presumed she was dead—and was then delivered to her sister, who was the only remaining heir. Now that she had appeared, it was promptly paid over to her, and Mrs. Redburn, before poor and proud, was now rich, and humility never sat more gracefully on the brow of woman than on hers.
Katy and her mother had entered upon a new life, and in the midst of luxury and splendor, they could not forget the past nor cease to thank God for His past and present mercies. Mrs. Gordon used to declare it was strange she had never thought that Mrs. Redburn might be her sister; but it was declared that stranger things than that had happened.
Katy continued to go to school with great regularity, and became an excellent scholar. She was beloved by all her companions and Grace, who was married shortly after Katy entered the family, always regarded her with the affection of a sister, insisting that she should spend half the time at her house. Mrs. Redburn was soon completely restored to health. She had a fortune to manage now, and when Dr. Flynch proposed to collect her rents and take charge of her affairs, she respectfully declined the offer. Mrs. Gordon did not like him as well as formerly, for her sister had opened her eyes in regard to his true character, and she soon found an opportunity to discharge him.
Having carried Katy through her principal troubles and chronicled the rise and fall of the candy trade we shall step forward ten years to take a final look at her and her friends, and then bid them farewell.
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