CHAPTER XXXVI.

"ONLY TO SEE YOU, MY DARLING."

Oh, what a welcome Dainty received from the true hearts in that humble

home!

They treated her like a queen, but so warm was their devotion, and so

eager their interest, they soon drew from her lips all that had happened

to her in Richmond.

The women's tears fell copiously, and even Hiram Peters could not help

drawing the backs of his horny hands now and then across his kind, moist

eyes, while he groaned:

"I swow you had troubles fit to kill you!"

"At the last I could bear my shame and misery no longer. I made up my

mind to come back to West Virginia, and try to find some evidence of my

marriage, that my child should not be born under a cloud of shame," said

Dainty, sorrowfully.

"Poor lamb!" groaned mammy; and the others sighed in concert, for when

they had heard all she could tell about her marriage, Mr. Peters was

fain to confess that her prospects looked very dark.

"You see, Mrs. Ellsworth, madame," he said, proudly giving her her true

name, bringing a flash of pleasure to her eyes, "that old man, the

county clerk that must have issued the license, died soon after, and

likewise the preacher of that little church in the woods; so, unless you

can find out what became of the license, it will be a hard job to prove

the marriage."

"I fear so," sobbed Dainty; then she added: "Do you think, mammy, that

Mrs. Ellsworth is still unrelenting?"

"Hard as a stone, honey!"

"But perhaps if she knew the truth, that a child is to come of that

secret marriage, she might relent and pity it enough to acknowledge me

as Love's wife," sighed Dainty, anxiously.

But her listeners all persuaded her that such a thing was impossible.

The woman would never acknowledge anything that would cause her to lose

her grip on the wealth she was holding by a shameless fraud.

"Honey, don't yo' go nigh them deceitful wretches! Don't yo' even let

them know that yo' are alive, or there'll be a new plot set on foot

direckly 'ginst yo' sweet life and the one that's comin' too! Hab yo'

forgot how the old 'oman shet yo' up in dat dark dungeon till yo'

pisened yo'self, and how dem gals tried to burn yo' up in de ole cabin,

and would hab 'ceeded, too, but for John Franklin breakin' in de winder

and fetchin' yo' out--an' his face an' han's an' hair all scorched

drefful!" expostulated mammy.

Among them all they persuaded her that it was better not to try to prove

her rights than to lose her life.

"You stay here quietly long o' us, honey, and don't let no one know who

you air, and arter your chile comes, you may leave it with me ef you

wants, and I'll tek keer of it till the good Lord makes a better way for

it. And all of us we'll pray and pray that good luck may come to you,"

exclaimed Mrs. Peters, piously, while her husband chimed in, fervently:

"You kin 'pend on us to be your firm fren's fer life, ma'am, and you air

jist as welcome ter anythin' we got as any one of our nine boys!"

Oh, how their humble kindness went to her wounded heart, encouraging her

to cry out, passionately:

"There is one thing I crave more than I ought on earth, and perhaps some

one might manage it for me; it is to see my husband's face again!"

A dark cloud seemed suddenly to fall over them all, and she cried in

dismay:

"Why do you all look so strange and frightened? Oh, my God! do not tell

me he is dead!"

"No, deares', yo' husban' ain't dead!" sighed mammy, and burst into

sudden loud sobs, as she added: "Dey done tooken him away dis larst week

to New York, honey. Doctor Platt, dat good ole man, yo' know, and

Franklin, his body-servant, as sabed yo' from de fire, yo' know. And yo'

kain't nebber look on his face no mo', fer Doctor Platt say he was

gettin' dang'ous an' might hurt somebuddy, so he 'suaded Missis

Ellsworth to fasten him up in a 'sylum way off yonder, an' him'll nebber

come home no mo'!"