Della sat rocking by the fire, looking pale and ill, and Bernard was fondly hanging over her chair. Minny sat a little way apart, holding upon her lap the first-born babe-a boy-'the darling of their een.'
Never was a happier father, never a prouder and more delighted mother.
'Bernard,' said Della, looking up in her husband's face, 'I have a plan to propose.'
'What is it, dearest?'
'Will you grant it?'
'Perhaps.'
'Well, I think that now little Bernard is old enough to do a little while without me, and what I have to propose is, that you send me in the country, to visit our friends, and to regain my health, which you know is sadly impaired, while Minny stays home, and takes care of you, and plays mother to baby; what say you?'
'And leave me a widower?'
'Just a little while.'
'And why not take the boy and Minny with you?'
'Oh, that would never do. Must leave my cares behind, when I go for my health, you know.'
'Poor child! it seems strange to hear you talking of cares, you who were born to so much wealth and luxury.'
'Hush, hush! you musn't talk so. Happy cares mine are, and you know it, though not just the ones to take with me on a visit. Now confess, that you never knew a happier little wife than yours, or a more joyous little household than ours.'
'True, in spite of our poverty.'
'Yes, in spite of everything. Love is our wealth, and we are so happy in the possession of it.'
'Yet you want to run away from us all!'
'Yes, since you will have it so; do you consent?'
'Submissively.'
It was so arranged, then, that Della should leave on one of the evening up-river boats, and the rest of the day was spent in the hurry and bustle of preparation.
Though Minny had felt really unhappy at the idea of being left alone with Bernard, toward whom she stood in such a peculiar relation, she studiously concealed her feelings from Della, not wishing to mar the bright anticipations in which she was indulging; and, smothering her own forebodings, hoped for the best.
The parting hour arrived, and with many charges, and tears, and warnings, Della clung to her husband and her baby, regretting, even at the last moment, that she had made up her mind to part with them.
'Dear Bernard, I leave Minny in your charge; take precious care of her for my sake. A great charge I leave with you, dearest-my boy and dear Minny. You must be mother and sister till I come back.'
'I will, love; truly is my charge a sacred one.'
'Good-bye, my treasures.'
'Good-bye.'
She passed out to the carriage.
'Send Minny to me once again, Bernard.'
Minny came.
Della threw her arms around her, and pressed her to her heart.
'I never parted from you before, dear Minny, and I can scarcely give you up. Were it not that health demanded it, and a narrow purse forbade our both going, this would have never been. There! don't cry, Minny; when we meet, it will be never to part again.'
Was there prophecy in those parting words?
As the carriage rolled away, Minny stood holding the heavy black curls from her brow, gazing earnestly after it as long as she could see Della's white handkerchief waving her adieu; then, bursting into a flood of tears, she took the babe from its father's arms, and entered the house.
Bernard was a good husband to Della, and loved her as dearly as it was possible for him to love. But his marriage with her had not bettered his fortunes, and he was a poor man. This sometimes induced him to indulge in his old habits, in spite of Della's remonstrances, and tearful assurances that they were rich enough, and surely very happy, if he wouldn't follow these bad practices. He occasionally played high, in the hope of mending his purse, and then drank deep, to drown his disappointment. Several times since their marriage, he had gone home in such a state as this; but, every time, Della's unfeigned distress had called forth an earnest promise of amendment, which at the time he had faithfully meant to fulfill. But now Della was gone, and her restraining influence gone with her. She had been absent but a few days, when one night Bernard stayed out very late; and Minny, tired of waiting up for him, arranged the latch-key so that he might enter, and taking the baby in her arms, retired with him to her own room. She had but just laid the child upon his pillow when she heard his fathers step upon the stairs. She knew instantly, by its unsteadiness, that he was intoxicated. She did not disrobe, but, sitting down beside the bed, listened with painful anxiety to hear him go quietly to rest in his own room. She sat almost breathless, while a thrilling and undefinable dread crept through her whole frame. The steps went slowly on, she heard them pass into Della's chamber, linger there a moment, and then, oh, horror! they were directed straight toward her door. They came on, in their wavering unsteadiness, and, with a sudden impulse, Minny sprang to the bed, thinking to catch up his sleeping son, and meet him in the hall; but ere she could carry out her design Bernard had reached the door, entered, and closed it behind him. His blood-shot eyes, his flushed face, and trembling hand, as he held the lamp before him, all bore evidence of the excitement under which he labored.
'So, so, pretty one, how do you progress in playing mother, eh?'
'Very well,' replied Minny, with forced calmness. 'Did you come to look after him?'
'Look after him? no, I didn't; I knew he was doing well enough; I came to look after you.'
'Is there anything you want, which I can get you,' said Minny, approaching the door, and laying her hand on the knob.
'No, my beauty,' returned the other, placing his back against the door, and turning the key in the lock, while he placed his lamp on the table beside him, 'there's nothing I want which you can
He seated himself, and motioned for her to come and sit upon his knee.
Minny grew deathly pale, and laid her hand upon her heart, to still its tumultuous throbbing. There was no way of escape; the window was too high from the ground, and the door was locked, and her persecutor had the key.
Striving to conceal her agitation, she said, as quietly as she could:-
'I cannot give you that, Bernard; such manifestations on your part, you should remember, belong to your wife and child.'
'And isn't the mother of my boy my wife? and did you not just confess you were his mother?'
'In the absence of his rightful mother, I have striven to fill her place; and if you choose to look upon me in such a light, show me the respect which is my due. Leave my room, sir!'
'By Jove, girl, you are saucy; come here, and sit upon my knee. You're a little wrathful just now, but all the prettier for that. Come.'
Minny rose up, with her face ashy pale, and stood in her calm womanly dignity before him.
