New Year’s day at last came, and the mother, who had looked forward so anxiously for its arrival, that she might see her boy once more, felt happier in the prospect of meeting him than she had been for a long time. Since his departure, she had not heard a single word from him, which caused her to feel painfully anxious. But this day was to put an end to her mind’s prolonged and painful suspense, in regard to him. From about nine o’clock in the morning, she began to look momently for his arrival. But the time slowly wore on, and yet he did not come. Ten, eleven twelve, one o’clock came and went, and the boy was still absent from his mother, whose heart yearned to see his fair face, and to hear his voice, so pleasant to her ear, with unutterable longings. But still the hours went by—two, three, four, and then the dusky twilight began to fall, bringing with it the heart-aching assurance that her boy would not come home. The tears, which she had restrained all day, now flowed freely, and her over-excited feelings gave way to a gush of bitter grief. The next day came and went, and the next, and the next—but there was no word from Henry. And thus the days followed each other, until the severe month of January passed away. So anxious and excited did the poor mother now become, that she could remain passive no longer. She must see or hear from her child. Doctor R—had obtained him his place, and to him she repaired.
“But haven’t you seen your little boy since he went to Lexington?” the doctor asked, in some surprise.
“Indeed, I have not; and Mr. Sharp promised to bring him home on New Year’s day,” replied the mother.
“Mr. Sharp! Mr. Sharp!” ejaculated the doctor, thoughtfully. “Is that the name of the man who has your son?”
“Yes, sir. That is his name.”
Doctor R—arose and took two or three turns across the floor at this, and, then resuming his seat, said—
“You shall see your son to-morrow, Mrs. Gaston. I will myself go to Lexington and bring him home. I had no idea that the man had not kept his promise with you. And, as I got Henry the place, I must see that his master is as good as his word in regard to him.”
With this assurance, Mrs. Gaston returned home, and with a lighter heart.
CHAPTER XI.
PERKINS ANXIOUSLY SEEKS LIZZY GLENN.
ONE Morning, a few days after the young man named Perkins had related to his friend the history of his attachment to Miss Ballantine and his subsequent bereavement, he opened a letter which came by mail, among several relating to business, postmarked New Orleans. It was from an old friend, who had settled there. Among other matters, was this paragraph:—
“I heard something the other day that surprised me a good deal, and, as it relates to a subject in which no one can feel a deeper interest than yourself, I have thought it right to mention it. It is said that, about a year and a half ago, a young woman and her father suddenly made their appearance here, and claimed to be Mr. and Miss Ballantine. Their story, or rather the story of the daughter (for the father, it is, said, was out of his mind), was that the ship in which they sailed from New York had been burned at sea, and that a few of the passengers had been saved in a boat, which floated about until all died but herself and father; that they were taken up almost exhausted, by a Dutch East Indiaman, and that this vessel when near the Cape of Good Hope, encountered a gale, and was blown far off south, losing two of her masts; and that she was finally wrecked upon an uninhabited island, and the few saved from her compelled to remain there for nearly two years before being discovered and taken off. This story was not believed. Mr. Paralette, it is said, who has retained possession of all Mr. Ballantine’s property since his absence, was waited upon by the young woman; but he repulsed her as an impostor, and refused to make the least investigation into her case. He had his own reasons for this, it is also said. Several of Mr. Ballantine’s old friends received notes from her; but none believed her story, especially as the man she called her father bore little or no resemblance to Mr. Ballantine. But it is now said, by many, that loss of reason and great physical suffering had changed him, as these would change any man. Discouraged, disheartened, and dismayed at the unexpected repulse she met, it is supposed by some, who now begin to half believe the story, that she died in despair. Others say that the same young woman who called upon Mr. Paralette has occasionally been seen here; And it is also said that two of our most eminent physicians were engaged by a young woman, about whom there was to them something singular and inexplicable, for nearly a year and a half to attend her father, who was out of his mind, but that they failed to give him any relief. These things are now causing a good deal of talk here in private circles, and I have thought it best to make you aware of the fact.”
From that time until the cars left for New York, Perkins was in a state of strong inward excitement. Hurriedly arranging his business for an absence of some weeks, he started for the South late in the afternoon, without communicating to any one the real cause of his sudden movement. After an anxious journey of nearly two weeks, he arrived in New Orleans, and called immediately upon Mr. Paralette, and stated the rumor he had heard. That gentleman seemed greatly surprised, and even startled at the earnestness of the young man, and more particularly so when he learned precisely the relation in which he stood to the daughter of Mr. Ballantine.
“I remember the fact,” was his reply. “But then, the young woman was, of course, a mere pretender.”
“But how do you know?” urged Mr. Perkins. “Did you take any steps to ascertain the truth of her story?”
“Of course not. Why should I? An old friend of her father’s called upon them at the hotel, and saw the man that was attempted to be put off by an artful girl as Mr. Ballantine. But he said the man bore no kind of resemblance to that person. He was old and white-headed. He was in his dotage—a simple old fool—passive in the hands of a designing woman.”
“Did you see him?”
“No.”
“Strange that you should not!” Perkins replied, looking the man steadily in the face. “Bearing the relation that you did to Mr. Ballantine, it might be supposed that you would have been the first to see the man, and the most active to ascertain the truth or falsity of the story.”
“I do not permit any one to question me in regard to my conduct,” Mr. Paralette said, in an offended tone, turning from the excited young man.
Perkins saw that he had gone too far, and endeavored to modify and apologize: but the merchant repulsed him, and refused to answer any more questions, or to hold any further conversation with him on the subject.
The next step taken by the young man was to seek out his friend, and learn from him all the particular rumors on the subject, and who would be most likely to put him in the way of tracing the individuals he was in search of. But he found, when he got fairly started on the business for which he had come to New Orleans, that he met with but little encouragement. Some shrugged their shoulders, some smiled in his face, and nearly every one treated the matter with a degree of indifference. Many had heard that a person claiming to be Miss Ballantine had sent notes to a few of Mr. Ballantine’s old friends about two years previous; but no one seemed to have the least doubt of her being an impostor. A week passed in fruitless efforts to awaken any interest, or to create the slightest disposition to inquiry among Mr. B.’s old friends. The story told by the young woman they considered as too improbable to bear upon its face the least appearance of truth.
