Rensselaer Union and Jasper Republican, Volume 8, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 May 1876 — THE REWARD OF KINDNESS. [ARTICLE]

THE REWARD OF KINDNESS.

Mbs. Gorham put down a letter she hpd been reading, ana, looking around the table at her blooming daughters and two tall, handsome sons, she said, in a doleful tone; “ Your Aunt Sabina ia coming to London, and has invited herself here without ceremony.” “ When ?” asked Arabella, with an intonation of intense disgust. “ She will reach here this afternoon. Wilber, yon will have to meet her.” “Sony, ma; but I promised to drive Miss Caldwell to the park. Fred can go. ” “ Certainly, I will go,” Fred said, gravely, though, there was a hot flush on. bis forehead. “lam very fond of Aunt." “Nonsense!" said his mother. “You have not seen her for fourteen years. I never went near the detestable old farm after your father died.” “ Nevertheless, I have a vivid recollection of Aunt Sabina’s kindness while we were there.” “ Dear me, Fred,” drawled Lacilla, “ don’t be sentimental; I wish the old thing would stay home. I can’t imagine what she is coming here for.” “ She is our lather’s sister,” said Fred, “ and I cannot find anything surprising in her looking for a welcome amongst her brother’s children.’ 1 Mrs. Gorham shrugged her shoulders. If she had spoken her lhaughtor ft weald have been; “ Fred is so odd! Just like his father.” But she only said: “I may depend upon you, then, to meet your aunt, Fred? I will see about her room.” It was a source of great satisfaction to Mrs. Gorham that her children were all like herself. “ ‘ Greers,’ everyone, except Fred,” she would say, congratulating herself that the plebeian blood of “ Gorham pere” was not transmitted in the features of her elder son, Wilber, or any of the three girls. That Greer pride meant intense selfishness, that Greer beauty was of a cold, hard type, that Greer disposition was tyrannical and narrow-minded, did not trouble Mrs. Gorham. That the son, who was “ all Gorham,” was proud to the core with the pride that knows no false shame —that he was noble in disposition, handsome in a frank, manly type, generous and self-sacrificing—she could not appreciate. His hands and feet were not so small as darling Wilber’s, he had no fashionable affectations, and no “Greer” look. So his mother thought him rough and coarse, and his sisters declared that he had no style at all. But outside the home, where a great show oi wealth was made by many private economies, Fred was more appreciated.

When he became a man, and knew that his father’s estate, though sufficient to give every comfort, was not large enough for the extravagance his mother indulged In, he fitted himself for business and took a position in a counting-house, thus becoming self-supportingi though his mother declared that no Greer had ever been in trade. That the money she lived on was made in boiling, the fashionable lady ignored entirely. Darling Wilber had studied law, but his first client had not yet appeared, and Mrs. Gorham supported him, trusting his fascinations wouJd4ouch th* heart of some moneyed belle. Miss Caldwell was the present hope. She was her own mistress, an orphan-heiress, and very handsome. That she was cold and prOud in manner was only an additional charm to Mrs. Gotham; and Lucllla, Arabella and ‘ Corinne were enthusiastic in their admiration of “ Cornelia Caldwell’s queenly manner." 1 Nobody suspected that Fred, blunt, straightforward Fred, hid one secret in his heart, confessed to no living, being. And that secret was a love, pure and true, for Cornelia Caldwell—a love that would shut itself closely away from anysusSicion of fortune-hunting that only rooped and mourned thinking of the heiress. By four o’clock Fred was at the station waiting for Aunt Sabina. What a little, old-fashioned figure she was, in her quaint blank bonnet, and large-figure shawl. But Fred knew her kindly old face at once, though he had not seen it since he was twelve years old. “ You are aunt,’* he said, going quickly to meet her. Shelooked at the handsome face, and caught a quick, gasping breath. “You must be one of John’s boys,” she said. How like you are to your father." “I am Fred,” he answered. “Dear heart! How you’ve grown! It your ma here?” “ She it waiting for you at home." The good aid countrywoman had never had the least doubt of a warn welcome at her brother’s* house, and Fred certainly confirmed her expectations. He found the .old black leather trank, the bag, the great bulging cotton umbrella, and put them all in the carriage, without-one smile of ridicule. He made his aunt go to the reataurant and refresh' herself before starting on the long drive home. He listened with respectful interest to all the mishaps of the long journey, and sympathized with the “Ruination of every mortal stitch I’ve got on, dear, in the dost and smoke.” ’*■

And be chatted pleasantly of his childish recollections of the tiny house and wide farm where Sabina Uvea. “ You see,” she told him, “ I made up my mind this year I would come to London once more before I died. I’ve tried to before now, dear, but something or nuther oilers hindered. Dear, dear! You are all grown up, f s’pose, and you was but a lot o’ babies last time poor John brought you to see me.” “ Corinne is the youngest, and she is eighteen. Wilber is the only one older than I am.” “Yes, I remember. Well, dear, I’m §lad that John’s wife brought up such a ne family. I’m only an old maid, but I do love children and young folks.” But a chill fell upon the kindly old heart when home was reached at last, and four fashionably-dressed ladies gave her a strictly courteous greeting. But for the warm clasp of Fred’s hand, I think she would have returned to the station in the same carriage she came, so wounded and sore she felt. “Not one kiss,” she thought, “and Fred kissed me at the train, right befbre all the folks.” Fred slipped a silver coin into the bands of the servant girl who was to wait upon his aunt, promising another if she was very attentive, and himself escorted the old lady to her room. It was not often the young man’s indignation found voice, though it grew hot over many shameful acts of hard selfishness in the house of his mother, but he said some words on that day that called a blush to the cheeks of the' worldly woman. It was not a very busy season, and finding Sabina was likely to have a sorry time, if left to the other members of the family, Fred asked for a holiday, and appointed himself the old lady’s escort. He wae.teo proud.to care for the fact thatthequaint little figure on his arm attracted many an amused glance, but gravely stood by while a new dress for Dolly, the dairy maid, and a city neck-tie for Bob, the plow-man, were purchased. . He gave undivided attention to the more important selection of a new black silk for aunty herself, and pleasantly accepted a blue silk scarf, with large red spots, that was presented to him, appreciating the love that prompted the gift, and mentally resolving to wear it when he paid the promised visit to the farm. He drove Aunt Sabina to the park. He took her to see allthe sights. —-, Once or twice, meeting some of his gentleman friends, they had thought “the queer old party is some rich relation, Gorham is so very attentive,” and had delighted Sabina by their deferential attention.

Once —Fred had not counted on that—in a picture gallery, Cornelia Caldwell sauntered in alone. She had trnard of Sabina, through the disgusted comments of Lucilla, and knew she had no property but a “ miserable farm,” but she greeted Fred with a smile far more cordial than she gave her admirers. A little lump came in Fred’s throat. Then he gravely introduced the stately beauty in her rustling silk to the little, old-fashioned figure ObW w."”- ' a*. “My aunt, Miss Gorham, Miss Caldwell.” They admired the pictures together, and the young lady was cordial and chatty. After they came down the steps, Miss Caldwell said: “You must let your aunt drive au hour or two with me, Mr. Gorham. I am going to do some shopping, so I will not tax your patience by inviting you to join us, but I shall bo pleased if Miss Gorham will dine with me, and you will call for her this evening.” Tnen she smiled again, made Sabina comfortable in the carriage, and drove off, leaving Fred forty times deeper in love than ever, as she intended he should be. “He is a very prifice of men,” she thought, “and I will give him one day’s rest. Bless the dear old soul, she has such blue eyes as my dear old grandmother.” Then she won Sabina’s confidence, and found she was worrying about tne purchase of certain household matters that would not go in the black leather trunk, and that she did not like to worry Fred about it. '

She drove to the places where the best goods could be had, keeping guard over the slender purse against all imposition, till the last towel was satisfactorily chosen and directed. Then she drove her home, and brought her to the room where “ grandmother" waa queen, knowing the stately old lady would make the countrywoman welcome. In the evening that followed, Fred’s heart was touched and warmed, till, scarcely conscious of his owq words, he told his long cherished secret, and knew that he had won love for love. Aunt Banina stayed two weeks, and then went home, to the immense relief of the Gorhams, and carrying no regret at leaving any but Fred and Cornelia. It was not even suspected that Cornelia spent four weeks in the height of the summer season, listening to the praises ot Fred at Sabina’s farm-house; and Fred did not knowltuntil he came, too, after she was gone, and had his share of listening to loving commendations of one he loved. He wore the necktie and made himself so much at home, that Sabina wept some of the bitterest tears of her life when he left. " To have you both, and lose you!" she sobbed. "Next time we will come together,” Fred whispered, and so consoled her. But, alas 1 the next time Fred came was to superintend the funeral of the gentle old lady; tod though Cornelia came, too, his happy wife, there was no welcome in the pale lips, or the blue eyes closed forever. i But the will the old lady left gave all her worldly possessions to her “dear nephew, Frederic Gorham’’—the form ana farm-house. It was apparently no very great legacy, and Cornelia smiled at many of the oldfashioned treasures toe touched, all with the tender reverence death leaves. Ten yean ago Sabina waa laid to rest in her narrow coffin, and there is a busy, flourishing town around the site of the old farm, Mr. Frederic Gorham lives there now, and handies large sums of money—the rents of stately buildings. “Made his money, sir,by speculation.’’ you will be toid, if you inquire as to his source of income. “ Fortunate purchase of ground before the town was thought • But I tell you that the only speculation he made was, in the kindness or bis heart, extending loving attentions to his father’s sister, and that the only land he ever Owned was Aunt Sabina’s laxm.—Englitk VKPr- . I