Part 20 (2/2)
She is a very young coloured girl, but looks so kind and capable, and says she is perfectly devoted to children. Her name is Marthy, and I feel that she's going to be a great comfort to me.
MATOACA CITY. October 12, 1886.
MY DARLING MOTHER:
I was overjoyed to find your letter in the hall when I came out from breakfast. Has it really been two weeks since I wrote to you? That seems dreadful, but the days go by so fast that I hardly realize how long it is between my letters.
We are all well, and Marthy has become the greatest help to me. Of course, I don't let her do anything for the baby, but she is so careful and trustworthy that I am going to try having her take out the carriage in the morning. At first I shan't let her go off the block, so that I can have my eye on her all the time. Little Lucy took a fancy to her at once, and really enjoys playing with her. This makes it possible for me to do a little sewing, and I am working hard trying to make over one or two of my dresses. Oliver wants me to have a dressmaker do it, but we have so many extra expenses all the time that I don't feel we can afford to put out any sewing. We have spent a great deal on doctors since we were married, but of course with a young child we can't very well expect anything else.
And now, dearest mother, I have something to tell you, which no one knows--not even Oliver--except Doctor Marshall and myself. We are going to have another darling baby in March, if everything goes as it ought to. I have kept it a secret because Oliver has had a good many business worries, and I knew it would make him miserable. It never seems to have entered his head that it might happen again so soon, and for his sake I do wish we could have waited until we got a little more money in the bank, but I suppose I oughtn't to say this because G.o.d would certainly not send children into the world unless it was right for them to be born. I try to remember what dear grandmamma said when somebody condoled with her at the time she was expecting her tenth child--that she hoped she was too good a Christian to dictate to the Lord as to how many souls He should send into the world. As for me, I should be perfectly delighted--it will be so much better for baby to have a little brother or sister to play with when she gets bigger--but I can't help worrying about Oliver's peculiar att.i.tude of mind. I am sure that father wouldn't have felt that way, and think how poor he has always been. Perhaps it comes from dear Oliver having lived abroad so much and away from the Christian influences, which have been one of the greatest blessings of my life. I have put off telling him every day just because I dread to think of the blow it will be to him. He is the dearest and best husband that ever lived, and I wors.h.i.+p the ground he walks on, but, do you know, things are always a surprise to him when they happen? He never looks ahead a single minute. I am sometimes afraid that he isn't the least bit practical, and it makes him impatient when I talk to him about trying to cut down expenses. Of course, I have to save as much as I can and I count every single penny, or we'd never have enough money to get through the month. I never buy a st.i.tch for either the baby or myself, though Oliver complains now and then that I don't dress as well as I used to do. But how can I when I've worn the same things ever since my marriage, besides making the baby's clothes out of my old ones? You can understand from this how grateful I am for the check you sent--but, dearest mother, I know that you oughtn't to have done it, and that you sacrificed your own comfort and father's to give it to me.
I wish Oliver could get something to do in Dinwiddie. He will never be happy here, and we could live on so much less money at home--in a little house near the rectory.
Your loving child, VIRGINIA.
CHAPTER III
THE RETURN
On a February morning five years later, Mrs. Pendleton, who was returning from her daily trip to the market, met Susan Treadwell at the corner of Old Street.
”You are coming up to welcome Jinny, aren't you, Susan?” she asked. ”The train gets in at four o'clock.”
”Why, of course. I couldn't sleep a wink until I'd seen her. It has been seven years, and it seems a perfect eternity.”
”She hasn't changed much--at least she hadn't six months ago when I was out there at the birth of her last baby. The little thing lived only two hours, you know, and I thought at first his death would kill her.”
”It was a great blow--but she has been fortunate never to have had a day's sickness with the other three. I am dying to see them--especially the eldest. That's your namesake, isn't it?”
”Yes, that's Lucy. She's six years old now, and as good as an angel, but she hasn't fulfilled her promise of beauty. Virginia says she was the prettiest baby she ever saw.”
”Everybody says that Jenny, the youngest, is a perfect beauty.”
”That's why her father makes so much of her, I reckon. I told him when I was out there that he oughtn't to show such a difference between them.
Do you know, Susan, I wouldn't say it to anybody else, but I don't believe Oliver has a real fondness for children. He gets tired of having them always about, and that makes him impatient. Now, Virginia is a born mother, just like her grandmother and all the women of our family.”
”I should think Oliver would be crazy about the boy. He was named after his father, too.”
”Virginia felt she ought to name him Henry, but we call him Harry. No, Oliver hardly ever takes any notice of him. I don't mean, of course, that he isn't nice and kind to them--but he isn't wrapped up in them heart and soul as Virginia is. I really believe he is more absorbed in this play he has written than he is in the children.”
”I am so glad to hear that two of his plays are going to be staged.
That's splendid, isn't it?”
”He is coming back to Dinwiddie because of it. Now that he is a.s.sured of recognition, he says he is going to devote all his time to writing. Poor fellow, he did so hate the work out at Matoaca City, though I must say he was very faithful and persevering about it.”
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