Family Pride CHAPTER 4.
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Nearly four years from the time Emily left her father's house had passed away, and in that time she had not yet allowed herself, from inclination or persuasion, to venture upon the street. Her babe had changed to a little girl of three years old, that all day long played about her mother, and with its innocent prattle, made music for her heart. Mr. Watson, from a mere journeyman carpenter, had commenced business for himself, and, being a pretty fair draftsman, had made several very profitable building contracts. He still occupied the same house, but it was furnished in a style much superior to what it was when the reader first glanced at its interior arrangement.
One pleasant Sunday afternoon in June, Mr. and Mrs. Watson were seated on a sofa near the window, watching with mutual interest the innocent gambols of their little girl, and listening to her wandering prattle.
"I want to go a walking, papa," said the child, pausing suddenly in her play, and coming up to where her father and mother were sitting.
"Do take her out a walking," said Mrs. Watson. "Will you, dear, if I get her ready?"
"Yes, Emily, if you will go along," he said, smiling.
"O, no. I don't care about going out," Emily responded, with a slight change of manner.
"Indeed, indeed, Emily, I wish you would only consent to go out with me once; you will, after that, go out often enough, I know. You are getting paler and thinner every day," he added, looking her tenderly in the face.
"Do come, mamma!" urged the child, taking hold of her gown, and pulling at it with all her might.
"See there, little Emily wants you to go," said her husband, with an appealing smile. "You can't resist her, I know."
"Come, mamma, do come!" continued the child, still pulling at the gown.
For a minute or so, she sat almost motionless, endeavoring to decide against her own reluctance, in favor of gratifying her husband and child.
"I will go out a little way with you," she at length said, in a voice slightly changed from its cheerful expression. "Come dear, let me put on your bonnet."
Taking little Emily by the hand, she went upstairs with her, while her husband's heart trembled with a feeling that was a mingling of delight and fear. Mrs. Watson soon had her little girl dressed, and then sent her downstairs to tell her father that she would be ready in a few minutes. She was exceedingly pale and weakened, and her dark eyes shone with an almost supernatural brightness, yet their light was tempered by the out-beamings of woman's gentle spirit. For a moment after her little girl had gone down, she stood by the side of the bureau, leaning against it, with an irresolute air. Then going slowly to a closet, she brought out a bandbox, and, removing the lid, lifted from it a beautiful bonnet, that had lain there untouched for three years; in all that time, she had not once looked upon it. A sigh struggled up from her bosom, and her face seemed to grow still paler, as her eyes fell upon this relic of other and better days. After removing from it a bunch or two of rich French flowers, the bonnet had nothing obsolete in its appearance, and none would have perceived that it varied materially from the then prevailing fashion.
A beautiful silk dress, which had not been worn for a time equal to that during which the bonnet had lain untouched, was next taken from a drawer. In the course of twenty minutes, she came downstairs, elegantly dressed, and ready to walk out. Her husband surveyed her with a look of pride and pleasure, but when he perceived that she was paler, and agitated, and felt her arm trembling within his — he half repented that he had urged her to go out.
They walked slowly up the street, and, in a short time, Mrs. Watson's mind became interested and revived by the fresh air, and by the happy voice of little Emily, which fell upon her ear incessantly. Their walk was extended some short distance, and then they turned toward home.
An air of cheerfulness was pervading the mind of Mrs. Watson, and she was beginning to converse freely upon the unimportant subjects suggested by the walk, when, as they came along on their return home, she startled at perceiving her father and mother rapidly approaching them in an open carriage. In a moment more they were whirled past, not, however, without the eyes of both parents and child meeting. But no expression of pleasure or of recognition, was in the face of either parent. The look they gave their child, was cold and stern. Dark, and sad, and all-pervading, was the shadow which fell upon her spirit. In an instant was the light extinguished, which had shed over her mind a cheerful ray. Her husband noted the change, and knew too well the cause; and his heart trembled as much as the arm that rested heavily upon his own.
In vain he attempted to rally her from the instantaneous shock and depression. Sadder and sadder grew the shadow which rested on her pale face after their return, and her eyes seemed looking inward, as if uniting with the spiritual vision in contemplating the gloomy specters that were passing before her mind. In this state of abstraction, she remained for several days. From it she was suddenly aroused, one afternoon, by the servant entering her chamber, where she was lying on the bed lost in sad musings, and putting the question with a concerned manner,
"Is little Emily up here?"
"No, she is not. Isn't she downstairs?" responded Mrs. Watson, rising up with an alarmed expression in her countenance.
"No, ma'am, she is not. I thought she was up here."
"Mercy me! Where can she be, then?" ejaculated the mother, with a look of terror, all her maternal fears at once aroused.
"She must have gone out of the front door. She was playing in the parlor while I was at work in the yard, and the door was open. I will run out in the street and see if she is there," said the servant, hurriedly.
"Run, run quick, then!" exclaimed Mrs. Watson, her face almost as white as snow.
The black girl ran up and down the street, and into the houses of the different neighbors, but she returned in about ten minutes with no tidings; during which time, the poor, almost distracted mother, was in an agony of suspense. Her fears, easily excited, owing to the nervous state in which she was — were now overpowering.
"O ma'am, where can she be? Nobody has seen anything of her!" said the girl, coming in with breathless alarm.
"Go quickly for Mr. Watson! O, run quick!" and the sentence was scarcely half uttered, before the colored girl was hurrying off at full speed for Mr. Watson. It seemed an age to the distracted mother, before her husband arrived. He at once commenced by searching the house, cellar and yard, thoroughly, all over. This convinced him that the child had wandered away from the front door.
"Don't be frightened, Emily," he said, with an encouraging look which but ill-concealed the trembling anxiety that was at his heart. "She has only wandered off up or down the street, and has, of course, been picked up by someone, and will be kept safely for us, until we can find where she is. No harm can certainly happen to her."
But such a representation brought no comfort to the terror-stricken mother. There was an awful sensation of fear about her heart — a brooding conviction that she would never again behold the face of her dear child. Finding all efforts to soothe her feelings vain, the father hurried away in search of his dear lost one, now rendered doubly dear. He went from house to house for more than a square on each side of the street, above and below his dwelling; and enlisted as many neighbors in the search as possible, which was extended in a much larger circle and, finally, employed bell-men; and yet to no purpose.
Night came rapidly on, and, with its somber shadows, brought double gloom and terror to the hearts of the distracted parents. Even until twelve o'clock were bell-men employed to sound the alarm in all parts of the city; but it was sounded in vain. Advertisements were handed in to the newspaper offices at that late hour, offering a liberal reward to any person who would restore the little innocent.
"Have you found her?" was the eager question, asked in a tone of agonizing suspense of the husband, as he entered pale and agitated, at the hour of midnight. He shook his head mournfully. His poor wife could endure this terrible state no longer; with a groan of despair, she sank insensible into his arms!
All the night through, she remained in a state of unconsciousness. From this, she began slowly to revive, as the dim light of the morning came into the chamber, its cold rays struggling with the flickering candle. She was soon restored to full consciousness, and then came back upon her, with overwhelming agony, the idea that her little angel was lost to her, perhaps forever. There stood the empty, untumbled crib; and in it lay the babydoll, which ever rested within her arms at night, her untutored mind investing with life the unconscious effigy. For the first time, the mother's feelings softened, and the fountain of her tears was unsealed. For a long, long time she wept upon the bosom of her husband. But again the waters were sealed, and a stern and terrible sense of her loss fell upon her.
"I shall never see her again, my husband! I know I shall never see my sweet angel again!" she said, looking him in the face with a strange and fearful calmness. "She is dead, dead!" she added, shaking her head mournfully "dead, dead! And I shall never see my sweet babe again."
"Do not give way to such thoughts, Emily," urged her husband. "We must find her. Our advertisement in the papers will surely bring tidings of her."
"No, no, no!" murmured his wife sadly. "We shall never see her again! Do you know," she said quickly, and with startling emphasis "what I have just thought has become of her?"
"No, Emily. Where do you think she is?"
"Somebody has stolen her!" she said, in a low thrilling whisper, leaning over toward her husband, and looking him in the face with a countenance as white as marble.
"H-u-s-h!" replied the husband, half averting his face, while his heart seemed almost to die in his bosom at the terrible idea.
"It is true. I am sure it is," continued the wife, in the same ominous whisper. "Have you never heard of babes like her being stolen away? I have, many a time. And somebody hasgot her! I know they have! I know they have!" and she began to rock her body backward and forward, moaning and muttering to herself incoherently.
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