"Because she is a little baby, and don't know anything," replied Katy; "she used to stay with Biddy, but papa used to take me to walk, and toss me up to the wall when he came home, and make rabbits with his fingers on the wall after tea, and take me on his knee and tell me about little Red Riding Hood, and--oh, I want papa, I want papa," said the child, with a fresh burst of tears.

Ruth's tears fell like rain on Katy's little up-turned face. Oh, how could she, who so much needed comfort, speak words of cheer? How could her tear-dimmed eyes and palsied hand, 'mid the gloom of so dark a night, see, and arrest a sunbeam?

"Katy, dear, kiss me; you _loved_ papa--it grieved you to see him sick and suffering. Papa has gone to heaven, where there is no more sickness, no more pain. Papa is happy now, Katy."

"Happy? without _me_, and _you_, and _Nettie_," said Katy, with a grieved lip?

Oh, far-reaching--questioning childhood, who is sufficient for thee? How can lips, which so stammeringly repeat, 'thy will be done,' teach _thee_ the lesson perfect?

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hall," said Mr. Develin, handing Ruth the doctor's letter, and seating himself at what he considered a safe distance from a female; "I received that letter from the doctor this morning, and I think it would be well for you to attend to his request as soon as possible."

Ruth perused the letter, and handed it back with a trembling hand, saying, "'tis true the clothes are of no use, but it is a great comfort to me, Mr. Develin, to keep everything that once belonged to Harry."

Then pausing a moment, she asked, "have they a _legal_ right to demand those things, Mr. Develin?"

"I am not very well versed in law," replied Mr. Develin, dodging the unexpected question; "but you know the doctor doesn't bear thwarting, and your children--in fact--" Here Mr. Develin twisted his thumbs and seemed rather at a loss. "Well, the fact is, Mrs. Hall, in the present state of your affairs, you cannot afford to refuse."

"True," said Ruth, mournfully, "true."

Harry's clothes were collected from the drawers, one by one, and laid upon the sofa. Now a little pencilled memorandum fluttered from the pocket; now a handkerchief dropped upon the floor, slightly odorous of cologne, or cigars; neck-ties there were, shaped by his full round throat, with the creases still in the silken folds, and there was a crimson smoking cap, Ruth's gift--the gilt ta.s.sel slightly tarnished where it had touched the moist dark locks; then his dressing-gown, which Ruth herself had often playfully thrown on, while combing her hair--each had its little history, each its tender home a.s.sociations, daguerreotyping, on tortured memory, sunny pictures of the past.

"Oh, I cannot--I cannot," said Ruth, as her eye fell upon Harry's wedding-vest; "oh, Mr. Develin, I cannot."

Mr. Develin coughed, hemmed, walked to the window, drew off his gloves, and drew them on, and finally said, anxious to terminate the interview, "I can fold them up quicker than you, Mrs. Hall."

"If you please," replied Ruth, sinking into a chair; "_this_ you will leave me, Mr. Develin," pointing to the white satin vest.

"Y-e-s," said Mr. Develin, with an attempt to be facetious. "The old doctor can't use that, I suppose."

The trunk was packed, the key turned in the lock, and the porter in waiting, preceded by Mr. Develin, shouldered his burden, and followed him down stairs, and out into the street.

And there sat Ruth, with the tears dropping one after another upon the wedding vest, over which her fingers strayed caressingly. Oh, where was the heart which had throbbed so tumultuously beneath it, on that happy bridal eve? With what a dirge-like echo fell upon her tortured ear those bridal words,--"till death do us part."

CHAPTER XL.

"Tom Herbert, are you aware that this is the sixth spoonful of sugar you have put in that cup of tea? and what a forlorn face! I'd as lief look at a tombstone. Now look at _me_. Did you ever see such a fit as that boot? Is not my hair as smooth and as glossy as if I expected to dine with some other gentleman than my husband? Is not this jacket a miracle of shapeliness? Look what a foil you are to all this loveliness; lack-l.u.s.tre eyes--mouth drawn down at the corners: you are a dose to contemplate."

"Mary," said her husband, without noticing her raillery; "do you remember Mrs. Hall?"

"Mrs. Hall," replied Mary; "oh, Ruth Ellet? yes; I used to go to school with her. She has lost her husband, they say."

"Yes, and a fine n.o.ble fellow he was too, and very proud of his wife.

I remember he used to come into the store, and say, with one of his pleasant smiles, 'Herbert, I wonder if you have anything here handsome enough for my wife to wear.' He bought all her clothes himself, even to her gloves and boots, and was as tender and careful of her as if she were an infant. Well, to-day she came into my store, dressed in deep mourning, leading her two little girls by the hand, and asked to see me.

And what do you think she wanted?"

"I am sure I don't know," said Mary, carelessly; "a yard of black c.r.a.pe, I suppose."

"She wanted to know," said Mr. Herbert, "if I could employ her to make up and trim those lace collars, caps, and under sleeves we sell at the store. I tell you, Mary, I could scarce keep the tears out of my eyes, she looked so sad. And then those poor little children, Mary! I thought of you, and how terrible it would be if you and our little Sue and Charley were left so dest.i.tute."

"Dest.i.tute?" replied Mary; "why her father is a man of property; her brother is in prosperous circ.u.mstances; and her cousin lives in one of the most fashionable squares in the city."

"Yes, wife, I know it; and that makes it all the harder for Mrs. Hall to get employment; because, people knowing this, take it for granted that her relatives help her, or _ought_ to, and prefer to give employment to others whom they imagine need it more. This is natural, and perhaps I should have thought so too, had it been anybody but Harry Hall's wife; but all I could think of was, what Harry (poor fellow!) _would_ have said, had he ever thought his little pet of a wife would have come begging to me for employment."

"What did you tell her?" said Mary.

"Why--you know the kind of work she wished, is done by forty hands, in a room directly over the store, under the superintendence of Betsy Norris; of course, they would _all_ prefer doing the work at home, to coming down there to do it; but that is against our rules. I told her this, and also that if I made an exception in her favor, the forewoman would know it, because she had to prepare the work, and that would cause dissatisfaction among my hands. What do you think she said? she offered to come and sit down among those girls, and work _with_ them. My G.o.d, Mary! Harry Hall's wife!"

"Of course that was out of the question, wife, for she could not bring her two children there, and she had no one to leave them with, and so she went away; and I looked after her, and those little bits of children, till they were out of sight, trying to devise some way to get her employment. Cannot you think of anything, Mary? Are there no ladies you know, who would give her nice needlework?"

"I don't know anybody but Mrs. Slade," replied Mary, "who puts out work of any consequence, and she told me the other day that she never employed any of those persons who 'had seen better days;' that somehow she couldn't drive as good a bargain with them as she could with a common person, who was ignorant of the value of their labor."

"G.o.d help poor Mrs. Hall, then," exclaimed Harry, "if _all_ the s.e.x are as heartless! _We_ must contrive some way to help her, Mary--help her to _employment_, I mean, for I know her well enough to be sure that she would accept of a.s.sistance in no other way."

CHAPTER XLI.

"Is this the house?" said one of two ladies, pausing before Ruth's lodgings.

"I suppose so," replied the other lady; "they said it was No. 50 ---- street, but it can't be, either; Ruth Hall couldn't live in such a place as this. Just look at that red-faced Irish girl leaning out the front window on her elbows, and see those vulgar red bar-room curtains; I declare, Mary, if Ruth Hall has got down hill so far as this, _I_ can't keep up her acquaintance; just see how they stare at us here! if you choose to call you may--faugh! just smell that odor of cabbage issuing from the first entry. Come, come, Mary, take your hand off the knocker; I wouldn't be seen in that vulgar house for a kingdom."

"It seems _heartless_, though," said the other lady, blushing slightly, as she gathered up her six flounces in her delicately gloved-hand; "do you remember the afternoon we rode out to their pretty country-seat, and had that delicious supper of strawberries and cream, under those old trees? and do you remember how handsome and picturesque her husband looked in that broad Panama hat, raking up the hay when the thunder-shower came up? and how happy Ruth looked, and her children?

'Tis a dreadful change for her, I declare; if it were me, I believe I should cut my throat."

"That is probably just what her relatives would like to have her do,"

replied Mary, laughing; "they are as much mortified at her being here, as you and I are to be seen in such a quarter of the city."

"Why don't they provide for her, then," said the other lady, "at least till she can turn round? that youngest child is only a baby yet."

"Oh, that's _their_ affair," answered Mary, "don't bother about it.

Hyacinth has just married a rich, fashionable wife, and of course he cannot lose caste by a.s.sociating with Ruth now; you cannot blame him."

"Well, that don't prevent him from _helping_ her, does it?"

"Good gracious, Gertrude, do stop! if there's anything I hate, it is an argument. It is clearly none of our business to take her up, if her own people don't do it. Come, go to La Temps with me, and get an ice. What a love of a collar you have on; it is handsomer than mine, which I gave fifty dollars for, but what is fifty dollars, when one fancies a thing?