Huberts Wife

Hubert's Wife, by Minnie Mary Lee

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Title: Hubert's Wife A Story for You
Author: Minnie Mary Lee

Release Date: June 27, 2007 [eBook #21949]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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HUBERT'S WIFE:
A Story for You.
by
MINNIE MARY LEE.

"There is a way which seemeth just to a man, but the end thereof leadeth unto death."--Prov. xlv, 12.
Baltimore: Published by John B. Piet Late Kelly, Piet & Co. Entered, according to an act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Kelly, Piet & Company, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.

CONTENTS.
I. A Black Conference 1 II. The Master of Kennons 7 III. An Interruption to Duncan's Reverie 14 IV. Philip St. Leger 19 V. The Missionary's Retrospect 30 VI. Missionary Life 37 VII. The Distinguished Traveler's Views 45 VIII. The Visitation by Spirit and by Death 52 IX. The New Choice 60 X. "A Dream which was not all a Dream" 71 XI. Althea's Guardians 77 XII. The Christening 88 XIII. New Mistress at Kennons 97 XIV. China--Uncle Mat's Prayer Meeting 109 XV. Kizzie 118 XVI. Time and Change 126 XVII. The St. Legers 135 XVIII. St. Mark's or St. Patrick's? 145 XIX. "In such an hour as ye think not" 154 XX. Juliet 164 XXI. "The Spider and the Fly" 172 XXII. Althea--Death of Little Johnny 181 XXIII. Hubert Lisle at Vine Cottage 193 XXIV. Jealousy 201 XXV. The Awakening 208 XXVI. Light after Darkness 213 XXVII. The Convert's Trials 221 XXVIII. Mysterious Disappearance 231 XXIX. Hubert's Second Visit 235 XXX. "And the Sea shall give up its Dead" 240 XXXI. Conclusion 243
CHAPTER I.
A BLACK CONFERENCE.
It was the night after the funeral. Ellice Lisle, the loving wife, devoted mother, kind mistress, and generous friend, had been laid away to rest; over her pulseless bosom had been thrown the red earth of her adopted Virginia, and, mingled with its mocking freshness, was the bitter rain of tears from the eyes of all who had known the lowly sleeper. Even Nature joined the general weeping; for, though the early morning had been bright and beautiful, ere the mourners' feet had left the new-made grave, the skies had lowered, and a gentle rain descended.
"You have pity upon me, O Heaven, and you weep for me, O earth," had exclaimed Duncan Stuart Lisle, as, leading his little Hubert by the hand, he turned away from his lost Ellice.
As night deepened, the rain increased, and the darkness became intense. The house-servants, timid and superstitious, had all congregated in Aunt Amy's cabin. Amidst their grief, sincere and profound, was yet a subject of indignation, which acted as a sort of safety-valve to their over-much sorrowing.
"A nice, pretty piece of impudence it was, to be sure, when she hadn't been in the house for five year, to 'trude herself the minute Miss Ellice's breath had left her precious body, the poor dear!" ejaculated Chloe, the cook, who was intensely black, and fat to immensity.
"Much as ever Massa Duncan 'peared to notice her, not'standing she make herself so 'ficious," said Amy, who looked more the Indian than African.
"He never set eyes on her but once," said young China, the favorite housemaid, whose dialect and manners were superior to those of the other servants, "only just once, and that was when she looked at him so long and fierce-like he couldn't actually keep his eyes down."
"I see it my own self," added Chloe, whose small orbs were almost buried beneath overhanging cliffs of brow and uprising mountains of cheek, "and I'll tell you what I tinks: I tinks just den and dere, dat if we's meet de ole one hisself he wouldn't hab no eyes, cause Misses Rusha Rush jes done gone an' stole 'em."
This dark reference caused a closer grouping of the sable dames and damsels. Trembling hands drew small plaid shawls closer about the shoulders, while one bolder than the rest cast a huge pine-knot upon the glowing coals.
Amy was first to break the brief silence.
"Mighty pity Jude Rush ever fell off 'Big Thunderbolt' and broke his slim neck! But Massa Duncan knew nuf once to let Miss Rusha 'lone; he's not gwine to be 'veigled by none o' her hilofical airs--you may 'pend on dat; 'specially when he's had dat sweet saint all to hisself now dese so many year--no, neber."
And Amy reiterated this over and over, as if to kill the secret thought which haunted her