_ CHAPTER LV. AN UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER
The next day Mr. Pardee received a note from Mrs. Le Moyne, requesting him to come to Mulberry Hill at his earliest convenience. Being at the time disengaged, he returned with the messenger. Upon being ushered again into the invalid's room, he found Miss Hetty Lomax with a flushed face standing by the bedside. Both the ladies greeted him with some appearance of embarrassment.
"Cousin Hetty," said the invalid, "will you ask Hesden to come here for a moment?"
Miss Hetty left the room, and returned a moment afterward in company with Hesden.
"Hesden," said Mrs. Le Moyne, "were you in earnest in what you said yesterday in regard to receiving any benefits under this deed?"
"Certainly, mother," replied Hesden; "I could never consent to do so."
"Very well, my son," said the invalid; "you are perhaps right; but I wish you to know that I had heretofore made my will, giving to you and Cousin Hetty a joint interest in my estate. You know the feeling which induced me to do so. I am in the confessional to-day, and may as well admit that I was hasty and perhaps unjust in so doing. In justice to Cousin Hetty I wish also to say--"
"Oh, please, Mrs. Le Moyne," interrupted Hetty, blushing deeply.
"Hush, my child," said the invalid tenderly; "I must be just to you as well as to others. Hetty," she continued, turning her eyes upon Hesden, who stood looking in wonder from one to the other, "has long tried to persuade me to revoke that instrument. I have at length determined to cancel and destroy it, and shall proceed to make a new one, which I desire that both of you shall witness when it has been drawn."
Being thus dismissed, Hesden and his cousin withdrew, while Pardee seated himself at the little table by the bedside, on which writing materials had already been placed, and proceeded to receive instructions and prepare the will as she directed. When it had been completed and read over to her, she said, wearily,
"That is right."
The attorney called Hesden and his cousin, who, having witnessed the will by her request, again withdrew.
"Now Mr. Pardee," said Mrs. Le Moyne sadly, "I believe that I have done my duty as well as Hesden has done his. It is hard, very hard, for me to give up projects which I have cherished so long. As I have constituted you my executor, I desire that you will keep this will, and allow no person to know its contents unless directed by me to do so, until my death."
"Your wishes shall be strictly complied with, madam," said Pardee, as he folded the instrument and placed it in his pocket.
"I have still another favor to request of you, Mr. Pardee," she said. "I have written this note to Miss Ainslie, which I wish you to read and then transmit to her. No, no," she continued, as she saw him about to seal the letter which she had given him, without reading it; "you must read it. You know something of what it has cost me to write it, and will be a better judge than I as to whether it contains all that I should say."
Thus adjured, Pardee opened the letter and read:
"MULBERRY HILL Saturday, Oct. 8, 1871.
"MY DEAR MISS AINSLIE:
"Captain Pardee informed us yesterday of your nobly disinterested action in regard to the estate rightfully belonging to you. Words cannot express my gratitude for the consideration you have shown to our feelings in thus shielding the memory of the dead. Mr. Pardee will transmit to you with this the papers, showing that we have complied with your request. Pardon me if I do not write as warmly as I ought. One as old and proud as I cannot easily adapt herself to so new and strange a role. I hope that time will enable me to think more calmly and speak more freely of this matter.
"Hoping you will forgive my constraint, and believe that it arises from no lack of appreciation of your magnanimity, but only springs from my own weakness; and asking your pardon for all unkindness of thought, word, or act in the past, I remain,
"Yours gratefully,
"HESTER RICHARDS LE MOYNE."
"My dear Mrs. Le Moyne," said Pardee, as he extended his hand and grasped that of the suffering woman, "I am sure Miss Ainslie would never require any such painful acknowledgment at your hands."
"I know she would not," was the reply; "it is not she that requires it, but myself--my honor, Mr. Pardee. You must not suppose, nor must she believe, that the wife of a Le Moyne can forget the obligations of justice, though her father may have unfortunately done so."
"But I am sure it will cause her pain," said Pardee.
"Would it cause her less were I to refuse what she has so delicately given?"
"No, indeed," said the attorney.
"Then I see no other way."
"Perhaps there is none," said Pardee thoughtfully.
"You think I have said enough?" she asked.
"You could not say more," was the reply. After a moment's pause he continued, "Are you willing that I should give Miss Ainslie any statement I may choose of this matter?"
"I should prefer," she answered, "that nothing more be said; unless," she added, with a smile, "you conceive that your duty imperatively demands it."
"And Hesden?" he began.
"Pardon me, sir," she said, with dignity; "I will not conceal from you that my son's course has given me great pain; indeed, you are already aware of that fact. Since yesterday, I have for the first time admitted to myself that in abandoning the cause of the Southern people he has acted from a sense of duty. My own inclination, after sober second thought," she added, as a slight flush overspread her pale face, "would have been to refuse, as he has done, this bounty from the hands of a stranger; more particularly from one in the position which Miss Ainslie has occupied; but I feel also that her unexpected delicacy demands the fullest recognition at our hands. Hesden will take such course as his own sense of honor may dictate."
"Am I at liberty to inform him of the nature of the testament which you have made?"
"I prefer not."
"Well," said Pardee, "if there is nothing more to be done I will bid you good-evening, hoping that time may yet bring a pleasant result out of these painful circumstances."
After the lawyer had retired, Mrs. Le Moyne summoned her son to her bedside and said,
"I hope you will forgive me, Hesden, for all--"
"Stop, mother," said he, playfully laying his hand over her mouth; "I can listen to no such language from you. When I was a boy you used to stop my confessions of wrong-doing with a kiss; how much more ought silence to be sufficient between us now."
He knelt by her side and pressed his lips to hers.
"Oh, my son, my son!" said the weeping woman, as she pushed back the hair above his forehead and looked into his eyes; "only give your mother time--you know it is so hard--so hard. I am trying, Hesden; and you must be very kind to me, very gentle. It will not be for long, but we must be alone--all alone--as we were before all these things came about. Only," she added sobbingly, "only little Hildreth is not here now."
"Believe me, mother," said he, and the tears fell upon the gentle face over which he bent, "I will do nothing to cause you pain. My opinions I cannot renounce, because I believe them right."
"I know, I know, my son," she said; "but it is so hard--so hard--to think that we must lose the place which we have always held in the esteem of--all those about us."
There was silence for a time, and then she continued, "Hetty thinks it is best--that--that she--should--not remain here longer at this time. She is perhaps right, my son. You must not blame her for anything that has occurred; indeed--indeed she is not at fault. In fact," she added, "she has done much toward showing me my duty. Of course it is hard for her, as it is for me, to be under obligations to--to--such a one as Miss Ainslie. It is very hard to believe that she could have done as she has without some--some unworthy motive."
"Mother!" said Hesden earnestly, raising his head and gazing reproachfully at her.
"Don't--don't, my son! I am trying--believe me, I am trying; but it is so hard. Why should she give up all this for our sakes?"
"Not for ours mother--not for ours alone; for her own as well."
"Oh, my son, what does she know of family pride?"
"Mother," said he gravely, "she is prouder than we ever were. Oh, I
know it,"--seeing the look of incredulity upon her face;--"prouder than any Richards or Le Moyne that ever lived; only it is a different kind of pride. She would
starve, mother," he continued impetuously; "she would work her fingers to the bone rather than touch one penny of that estate."
"Oh, why--why, Hesden, should she do that? Just to shield my father's name?"
"Not alone for that," said Hesden. "Partly to show that she can give you pride for pride, mother."
"Do you think so, Hesden?"
"I am sure of it."
"Will you promise me one thing?"
"Whatever you shall ask."
"Do not write to her, nor in any way communicate with her, except at my request."
"As you wish." _