Medoline Selwyn's Work

Medoline Selwyn's Work

Mrs. J. J. Colter

5.0
Comment(s)
3
View
29
Chapters

Medoline Selwyn's Work by Mrs. J. J. Colter

Medoline Selwyn's Work Chapter 1 MRS. BLAKE.

The cars were not over-crowded, and were moving leisurely along in the soft, midsummer twilight. At first, I had felt a trifle annoyed at my carelessness in missing the Express by which I had been expected; but now I quite enjoyed going in this mixed train, since I could the better observe the country than in the swifter Express. As I drew near the end of my journey, my pulses began to quicken with nervousness, not unmixed with dread.

Captain Green, under whose care I had been placed when I left my home for the last eight years, had concluded, no doubt very wisely, that I could travel the remaining few miles through quiet county places alone. This last one hundred and fifty miles, however, had been the most trying part of the whole journey. My English was a trifle halting; all our teachers spoke German as their mother tongue at the school, and the last two years I was the only English-born pupil. Captain Green was an old East Indian officer, like my own dead father, and very readily undertook the care of a troublesome chit of a girl across the ocean, in memory of the strong friendship subsisting between himself and my father, now long since passed to other service than that of Her Gracious Majesty. The Captain was a very silent man, and therefore not calculated to help me to a better acquaintance of any language, while he did not encourage me to make friends with my traveling companions. The journey had been therefore a very quiet one to me, but I had found it delightful. I had, like most of our species, an innate love of the sea; and the long, still hours as I sat alone gazing out over the restless waters, have left one of the pleasantest of all the pictures hanging in memory's halls.

As I did not wish to be taken, even by the chance traveling companions of a few hours, for other than an English or American girl, I resolved to speak fewest possible words to any one on the journey; and when the conductor came for my ticket, I repressed the desire to ask him to tell me when my own station would be reached, and merely shook my head at the news agents who were more troublesome, if possible, than the dust and smoke which poured in at doors and windows. Captain Green had telegraphed my guardian the hour at which I would arrive, but I got so interested watching the busy crowds on the streets from my hotel window that, for a while, I forgot that I too needed a measure of their eager haste, if I were soon to terminate this long journey over land and sea. I was beginning to fear, at last, after the cars had been in motion some hours, that I might have passed my station; so I concluded to have my question carefully written down, and the next time the conductor came near me hand it to him. I had not long to wait, and giving him the slip of paper, I murmured "Please."

He read, and then looking at me very intently said:

"Are you a foreigner?"

"Oh, no; English," I said, blushing furiously.

"Why don't you speak then, when you want anything? That's what we're here for."

I bowed my head quite proudly and said, "Will you please, then, answer my question?"

"We won't be there for an hour or more. Are you not the young lady Mrs. Flaxman is expecting?"

"I am Mr. Winthrop's ward. I do not know any Mrs. Flaxman."

"Oh, it's all the same. She lives with him; is a cousin, or something connected with him. He is away now; left a month ago for the Pacific coast."

He was sitting now quite comfortably in the next seat.

"You needn't have any more anxiety about the stopping places," he continued, very cordially; "I will look after you, and see that you get safely home, if there's no one there to meet you. Most likely they expected you by the morning's Express." Then he inquired about my luggage, examining my checks and keeping up a running stream of conversation which I seemed compelled to answer. After the rigid exclusion of my school life, where we were taught to regard all sorts of men with a measure of wholesome dread, I scarce knew whether to be proud of my courage in being able to sit there, with such outward calmness, or ashamed of my boldness. If I could only have consulted one of the teachers just for a moment it would have been such a relief; but presently the train stopped, when he left my side, his seat to be immediately occupied by an elderly woman with a huge covered basket. After considerable difficulty she got herself and basket bestowed to her satisfaction just before the cars got in motion. She moved uneasily on the seat, looking around on all sides a trifle nervously, and then in an awed whisper said to me, "Don't the cars go all to smash sometimes?"

"Not many times," I tried to say reassuringly.

"I wan't never in 'em afore, and wouldn't be now, only my son Dan'el's wife's took oncommon bad, and he thinks I can cure her."

She remained quiet a while, and then somewhat reassured began to grow curious about her traveling companions.

"Have you cum fur?" she asked.

I explained that I had come a good many miles.

"All alone?"

"Only from New York."

"Going fur?"

"To Cavendish."

"Did you say Cavendish?"

"Yes."

"Be you a furriner?"

"No, I am English;" I felt my color rising as I answered.

"Well, you speak sort o' queer, but my old man was English, too, a Norfolk man, and blest if I could understand quarter he said for ever so long after we got keeping company. I used to say yes to everything I didn't understand when we was alone, for fear he might be popping the question; but laws, I knew well enough when he did ask."

She fell into an apparently pleasant reverie, but soon returned to the actualities of life.

"You're not married, surely."

I answered in the negative with fewest possible words.

"Got a young man, though, I'll warrant; such a likely girl."

"I do not understand what you mean," I answered with considerable dignity, glad to let her know that her own English was not perfect.

"You must have been riz in a queer place not to know what likely is. Why, it's good-looking; and anybody knows you're that. But I suppose you didn't have much eddication, they mostly don't in England; my man didn't know even his letters; but I have pretty good book larnin' and so we got on all right," she continued, with a retrospective look on her not unkindly face.

"Who might your folks be in Cavendish?" she asked, after a few moments of welcome silence.

"I have no relatives there," I answered, I am afraid, rather ungraciously.

"Going as governess or nurse girl to some of the aristocracy there? You don't look as if you ever did much housework, though."

"I am going to Mr. Winthrop's."

"Deu tell! Why, I lived with his mother myself, when I was a widder first."

Then she relapsed into another eloquent pause of silence, while possibly in her dim way she was reflecting how history repeats itself. But coming back to reality again, and scanning me more closely than ever, she asked, "Are you going there to work?"

My patience was getting exhausted, and it is possible there was a trace of petulance in my voice as I said, "No, I am Mr. Winthrop's ward."

"Deu tell! What is that?"

"He is my guardian."

"Why, he is a young man for that. I thought they got elderly men."

"My father held the same relation to him."

She was some time taking in the idea, but she said at last, "Oh, I see."

I took a book from my satchel and began reading; but she did not long permit me to enjoy it; her next remark, however, riveted my attention.

"I wonder if your name isn't Selwyn."

"Yes."

"Deary me, then I have seen your pa and ma long ago at Oaklands; that's the Winthrop's place."

"Please tell me about them. I never saw them after I was ten years old. I was sent from India, and then they died."

I spoke with a slight hesitancy, having first to translate my sentences, as I still thought, in German.

"Well, I wan't much acquainted with 'em. Housemaids ain't in general on friendly terms with the quality, but your ma was so kind to us servants, I've always remembered her. Mrs. Winthrop sot a sight by her."

"What was that?" I asked, much mystified.

"Oh, she liked them better'n most."

"Do you recollect their appearance?"

"Yes; your father was a soldier-like, handsome looking man, very tall and pretty stern. Your ma minded me of a flower, she was so delicate. They wan't long married then, but my, they was fond of each other! Your father just worshipped her. I heard Mrs. Winthrop say he had a hard time to get her. Your ma's folks didn't want her to marry a soldier. She was an only child, and they lived in England. The Winthrops were English, too, as well as your father."

It was my turn now to fall into a reverie at the strangeness of circumstances, thus causing me to meet this plain, old body, and learning from her incidents about my own dead parents I might otherwise never have known; besides she told it in such a realistic way that, in some mysterious fashion, like mind reading, I seemed to see it all myself through her clear eyes.

"Have you many brothers and sisters?"

"My mother had four children; but the others died in infancy."

"You look rugged as most young ladies."

"Do you mean healthy?"

"Well, yes; you have a clear complexion and rosy cheeks."

"They were extremely careful of our health at the school where I have been for the last eight years. That was the reason my father sent me there. He had heard how remarkably healthy their pupils were."

"'Twan't in this country, or you'd speak more nateral like."

"No, it was in Brussels."

"Oh, yes; in England, I suppose."

"No, on the continent of Europe; a city in Belgium, the capital."

"And you've talked a furrin tongue, then."

"Yes, several; but the German is the only one I speak quite correctly."

"Bless your heart, you'll soon talk fast enough in English. Your voice is very sweet; it minds me of your ma's. And it 'pears to me you speak better already."

I was beaming on the good woman now.

"Will you remain long in Cavendish?" I ventured on a question or two myself.

"It'll depend on Dan'el's wife. He wants me to come and live with 'em, but I hain't much hankering for darters-in-law, and I reckon we'd be better friends furder apart. However I'll stay till she gets well; it costs so for hired girls."

"May I come and see you?" I asked.

"Bless your dear heart, I'll be proud to have you come."

"Will you please tell me your name and what street you live on?"

"Oh, the streets don't amount to much in Cavendish. My name is Betsy Blake; just inquire for Dan'el Blake on the Mill Road; he works in Belcher's steam mill. Laws, how quick the time has gone! I thought for sure I'd be amost scart to death; and I've hardly once thought of getting smashed since I sot down here first; and now we're just into Cavendish."

I glanced through the window, and my heart throbbed joyously; for there, stretching so far away I could see no further shore, lay the beautiful ocean. No matter now what might be my home in this strange, new country. With my passion for the sea, and it so near, I could not be utterly desolate. To sit on these cliffs, reddening now in the sunset and watch the outgoing tide, sending imaginary messages on the departing waves to far-off shores, would surely, to some extent, deaden the sense of utter isolation from the world of childhood and youth. Mrs. Blake shook my hand warmly, repeating again the invitation to visit her at Daniel's, while she gathered up her huge basket and started for the door with the cars still in motion. I sat watching from the window the groups of people waiting for the incoming train as we stopped at the station. A few carriages were there, but none of them had come for Mrs. Blake. A strong limbed man, with a dejected face, relieved her of the basket and then hurried away, she rapidly following. I felt sorry for them, and was speculating what news Daniel had brought of his sick wife, quite forgetting for the time that I too had need to be astir. The conductor, however, soon reminded me of the fact as he announced briskly that a carriage was in waiting for me.

"They will send down bye-and-bye for your luggage; it's only a one-seated affair outside."

I followed him to the carriage; a bright faced young fellow was holding a spirited horse; from his bearing I instantly set him down as something more than a servant.

"Here, Flaxman, is your charge," the conductor remarked, as he assisted me into the carriage.

"Miss Selwyn, I presume," the young man said, politely, as he disentangled one hand from the reins to grasp mine. The horse started off on a biasing canter, much to my amusement.

"You are not afraid, I hope," my companion said, a trifle anxiously.

"Not afraid, but amused; your horse goes so oddly; but I am not accustomed to their ways." I added, fearing my remark might give offence.

"Faery and I are very good friends, and understand each other thoroughly; but strangers usually get alarmed."

My knowledge of quadrupeds was so limited I thought it safest to remain silent.

Presently we passed the Blakes, I longed to relieve Daniel of his heavy basket; for even he seemed to stagger beneath its weight.

"I was speaking with that woman on the train. She comes to attend her son's wife, who is sick."

"Oh, the Blakes, then. She won't have much to do, Dan's wife died to-day; poor beggar, he looks heartbroken."

"Your wife may be dead some day; then you will know how dreadfully he feels," I said, hotly. The flippant tone in face of such sorrow distressed me. He gave me a merry look as he said: "There are always plenty left to replace the lost ones. A wife is far easier got than a horse; one like Faery, for instance."

I shut my mouth firmly and turned my head away to watch the white sails idly mirrored, in the still waters, I knew he was furtively watching me, and this alone held back my tears, as I thought of poor Blake's desolate hearthstone, as well as my own heart's loneliness in this wide continent of strangers.

"Mr. Winthrop regretted being away when you arrived, but he expected us to be kind to you; so we must not quarrel first thing." My companion said, with entire change of tone.

"I quarrel pretty easily," I stammered, "my temper is very abrupt."

"Most of us have quick tempers; but, I think, you, at least, have a generous one."

Then I recollected abrupt was not a very suitable word to couple with temper. Taken altogether, I found this drive home with Faery and her master anything but enjoyable.

* * *

Continue Reading

You'll also like

The Scars She Hid From The World

The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE
4.5

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

SHANA GRAY
4.5

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

The Billionaire's Secret Twins: Her Revenge

The Billionaire's Secret Twins: Her Revenge

Shearwater
4.5

I was four months pregnant, weighing over two hundred pounds, and my heart was failing from experimental treatments forced on me as a child. My doctor looked at me with clinical detachment and told me I was in a death sentence: if I kept the baby, I would die, and if I tried to remove it, I would die. Desperate for a lifeline, I called my father, Francis Acosta, to tell him I was sick and pregnant. I expected a father's love, but all I got was a cold, sharp blade of a voice. "Then do it quietly," he said. "Don't embarrass Candi. Her debutante ball is coming up." He didn't just reject me; he erased me. My trust fund was frozen, and I was told I was no longer an Acosta. My fiancé, Auston, had already discarded me, calling me a "bloated whale" while he looked for a thinner, wealthier replacement. I left New York on a Greyhound bus, weeping into a bag of chips, a broken woman the world considered a mistake. I couldn't understand how my own father could tell me to die "quietly" just to save face for a party. I didn't know why I had been a lab rat for my family’s pharmaceutical ambitions, or how they could sleep at night while I was left to rot in the gray drizzle of the city. Five years later, the doors of JFK International Airport slid open. I stepped onto the marble floor in red-soled stilettos, my body lean, lethal, and carved from years of blood and sweat. I wasn't the "whale" anymore; I was a ghost coming back to haunt them. With my daughter by my side and a medical reputation that terrified the global elite, I was ready to dismantle the Acosta empire piece by piece. "Tell Francis to wash his neck," I whispered to the skyline. "I'm home."

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book