USA > California > A picture of pioneer times in California, illustrated with anecdotes and stores taken from real life > Part 36
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58 | Part 59 | Part 60 | Part 61
Her father's arms pressed her close to him, as he said:
" My sweet, darling child, depend on it, you will have the blessing and consent of both your parents to carry out your res- olution; and I promise you that neither your mother nor myself will say one word against your going, if, after discussion, you still desire to go."
" Then," said Ada, with a look of triumph, "the question is settled, without a word of discussion, dear father; for go I surely will."
This put the matter in a different position from anything Mr. Morehouse had anticipated. For a moment he thought to him- self-" Would it not be a good idea to let Ada go to California in ignorance of all Mrs. Bucket had said of Edmund's way of life, writing by to-morrow's mail that she was coming ?" But such a thought was hardly entertained when it was rejected as un- worthy of the consideration of an honorable man.
" Ada, dear, have you any objection to tell me what was in your husband's letter, that has so disturbed you, or have you any objection that I should read it ? "
" None whatever, dear father; and I will explain anything to you which you do not understand from the letter itself."
Saying this, Ada handed him the letter, and waited patiently for him to read it through. As he finished, he turned to Ada, and said :
. . "Tell me, dear, what is in that letter that. troubles you ? Most wives would not only be satisfied with it, but be proud of it."
" Well, dear father," said Ada, hesitatingly; " I suppose so; but it is not like his other letters-it looks to me restrained, which shows to me that he must be in trouble."
" Did he tell you what family or whom he was living with in that cottage, Ada ?"
" No," said Ada, with a half shudder; " he did not."
" Who is this Madam Defray, Ada ?"
376
PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
" I never heard of her before," said Ada, again shuddering; " but," she continued, " I think Edmund was just out of spirits, and that horrid nightmare he had on the bluff made him write me an unsatisfactory letter; but his having that vision, or dream, was so strange. It was the same I had the very first night we heard of gold in California. It is foolish, I know, but I cannot get it out of my head that it is a call for me to go to California and save Edmund from some terrible trouble or danger." As Ada said this, her lips quivered with emotion. Mr. Morehouse saw that the time was come when she must hear all Mrs. Bucket had told. So, assuming a calm, self-possessed manner and voice, he said :
" Darling Ada, you were always a brave little woman, as child, girl and woman. I want you now to prepare yourself to hear what is disagreeable to hear, and mind there may be a possibil- ity that it is all untrue."
As her father spoke, Ada turned deadly pale, sat upright and fixed her large eyes on his face, but said not a word.
" Did you hear," continued her father. " that Mrs. Dr. Bucket has returned from California ?"
"No," said Ada, in a husky, choked voice.
" Well," said Mr. Morehouse, now talking fast, as if he would save his child from further useless suspense, "she has come, and has been to see your mother and myself. She gives a terri- ble picture of the morals of the married men out there who are separated from their wives, and includes Edmund, by name, in those accusations."
In a moment Ada sprang from her chair, her eyes lit up with a wild, flashing light her father had never seen there before. As she stood erect before him, she folded her arms across her breast, and said :
" Father, you say Mrs. Bucket came to see you, and distinctly charged my husband, Edmund Allen, with leading a shameless, immoral life in San Francisco ?"
" That, my child, was the substance of what she said, though in a different way."
" And you and mother believed her, father; did you?" said Ada, with emphasis on every word, as she slowly spoke them.
" I cannot say I fully did, though I will do Mrs. Bucket the justice to say that I think she herself believed what she told us."
" Father, dear father," said Ada, in the same measured tone;
377
PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
" the charge is utterly and wickedly false ; I know it is false ; my heart within me tells me it is false ; Edmund seems to speak to me this moment, and says it is false ; but, false or truc, the charge being made has altered my plan of leaving for California."
" You will not go then, my child, until you hear from San Francisco ?"
" Will not go, father, you say ? Will not go!" Ada repeated again, still in the same voice and manner, and yet standing in front of her father with her arms folded. " Will not go, father! The steamer that leaves New York the day after to-morrow will bear Ada Allen and her two children on board for San Fran- cisco!"
" So soon! my child," said her father.
" Yes, father; not one day, not one hour, that I can help, will my husband rest under a charge against his honor and character, and that threatens disgrace to his children. No; if I hesitate for a moment I would be just no wife at all. Now, I understand plainly that I was forewarned, for I see far away in California my husband in danger, and my children too, far more so than when I saw them in my dream on the broken ice. No, father, a few minutes ago I was nothing but a weeping child in trouble, leaning on your breast for support and consolation; now all that is past; what I have just heard has brought me to myself; from this moment I am done with tears; none shall dim my eyes until I meet Edmund; then I will weep in my great joy, or-or-I will just die! I am no weak, shrinking child, palmed off on the. world for a woman worthy of the exalted position of wife and mother. No, father, your honorable blood runs in my veins; your teaching is here in my heart; I am the wife of a man whose honor and truth I cannot doubt, whatever others may do. I know every aspiration, every impulse of his heart. They were all of the highest and noblest character, founded on deep religious convictions. Let no one dare to tell me that God will not guard the steps of such a man in the worst of temptations! No, the charges are false, and I will fly to my husband, and show to all my faith in his truth, and, to him, the love and devotion I owe him as a true and faithful wife. Father, dear father," Ada con- tinued, while her voice sank lower and trembled with emotion; " if there were anything wrong out there, can I say that I have been wholly without blame? Did I act the part I should have done, as a wife worthy of a good and true husband, when I de-
378
PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
clined going with him to California, or to him, when he sent for me ?"
" My darling child," said Mr. Morehouse, while a shadow of deep pain passed over his fine face; " it was I who was to blame for that. Forgive me, darling Ada; it was, perhaps, the only selfish act of my life toward you; but, oh, Ada, you do not know how hard it was for me to part with you for such a far off place!"
Ada leaned forward, and, throwing her arms around her father's neck, passionately kissed him; then, in almost a whisper, close to his ear, she said:
" You must not blame yourself for loving your Ada too much. "
" Nor you, my sweet child, for loving your parents too well," responded her father.
" Promise me, dear father, that you will try to bear up against this sudden parting, and get darling mother to do so too. Let us look forward with cheerful hearts, and hope for the best. Oh," continued Ada, laying her hand on her heart, " something here tells me, assures me, that I shall find a true husband and a happy home in San Francisco."
" God grant it, my darling child. Consider all settled now as you wish it. I will go at once and bring your dear mother to you; I have already her consent to anything that you might pro - pose."
Then, rising from his seat, he took Ada's hand, and, pausing for a moment as if struggling to command his voice, he said, in a tone of deep feeling:
" God bless you, my child! I am prouder of you this moment than I ever was in my life, and I wish to assure you that I will enjoy thinking of you out there in California, fulfilling the noble duties of your position, a thousand times more than I could if you were here near me, shrinking from them."
The only answer Ada made was to embrace him, and, while gently wiping away the tears that stole down his cheeks, she kissed him, and whispered:
" No tears now, dear father; we have work to do, you know."
When Mr. Morehouse reached home, he found his wife anx- iously waiting for him, and miserable enough. He soon ex- plained everything to her, and she found great relief in knowing the worst and in being called on for help, and none could do it
379
PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
better. She hastily prepared herself, and returned with her husband to Ada. The mother and daughter, when they met, had a long, long embrace; but no word was spoken, except that Ada whispered. " Bless me, dear mother; but do not give way, or I am lost."
Mrs. Morehouse, with a great effort, overcame her feelings, and said with solemnity: "God bless you, my darling child." Then, assuming a cheerful tone, she continued: "I will sleep with you to-night, darling, so as to be ready to go to work on your preparations very early in the morning."
" That will be nice, dear mother," said Ada in the most cheer- ful voice, as she again kissed her.
It was getting late, and it was agreed that Mr. Morehouse should go home, and, before coming in the morning, he should call on Alfred and Alice Roman, and bring them with him to Ada's. But, on leaving the house, Mr. Morehouse turned his steps toward the Romans'. He preferred to go and see them then, though so late, as he could not rest for hours yet, if he went home, he was so feverish from all he had gone through that afternoon. He found the Romans yet up, though on the point of retiring.
They were at first alarmed at his call, and Alfred said: " Why, dear Mr. Morehouse, you look pale and out of sorts. What can be the matter ?"
" Do not feel alarmed, my dear friend; I do feel a little out of sorts, but nothing more."
" Let Alice get you some refreshment," said Alfred, yet look- ing very uneasy.
" Do so, if you please; it will do me good, I believe. I have some business of a serious character to talk of with you, but, as I am tired, I believe I will accept your offer.".
In a very few minutes Alice had refreshments on the table, and Mr. Morehouse ate with a good appetite, and helped him- self to wine a second time. As he turned from the table, he said: "Thank you, my dear Mrs. Roman. That has done me good, and I believe I could not have told you what I have to tell, but for the strength it has given me."
The husband and wife looked at each other with an expression of great anxiety, but waited for their visitor's pleasure, without speaking.
Mr. Morehouse now proceeded by relating Mrs. Bucket's call
380
PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
and detailing minutely all she had told him; then of his visit to Ada, and of her resolution to go to California without one day's unnecessary delay. It can be imagined how Alfred and Alice felt.
Alfred said, while circumstances and the woman's testimony gave color to the charge, " Yet," said he, " I will stake my life on the proposition that it is false."
As to Alice, whose attachment to her brother amounted to al- most worship, she had no patience with the charge, or with those who made it. She wept bitterly, saying over and over: " Poor, dear, darling Ada, what can I do for you ? Noble, generous, confiding angel! As brave as you are true to your husband."
Then she would exclaim: "Oh, Edmund, you won an angel for a wife, and may God grant that my firm belief will be justi- fied, that you are worthy of her." Then they talked and dis- cussed the matter until the night was far spent. Then Alfred urged Mr. Morehouse to accept a bed from them, as it was so late. Mr. Morehouse assented, and, as he did so, expressed him- self as much easier in mind since their evening's discussion and exchange of views. This was an anxious, restless night for them all, and, as for Alice, she never closed her eyes. After breakfast Mr. Morehouse went home, while Alfred and Alice went directly to Ada's. On the way, Alfred often said: "Now, dear wife, recollect that for poor Ada's sake you must overcome your sad feelings, and not give way."
" I will try, my dear husband; oh, I will try hard, for Mr. Morehouse told me of Ada's brave resolution, ' never to shed a tear until she shed ones of joy on meeting Edmund all true and good as he left her,' so I must not be the cause of her breaking her noble resolution."
But, as they drew near the house, Alice became terribly ex- cited and nervous, induced by loss of rest, as well as by her feelings of deep sympathy for her darling Ada, as she always called her. This sympathy was but natural, for Ada and Alice were devotedly attached sisters. They were much the same character of women. They were both of a high order of intel- lect. They were alike unselfish, generous and brave, charming in person and delightful in manners and deportment. They re- garded each other with unbounded admiration, and their love had become almost romantic in the fervor of its character.
Mrs. Morehouse and Ada had risen early this eventful morn-
381
PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
ing, and after a hurried breakfast commenced the work of pre- paring for Ada's journey. Trunks were hauled out, and clothes scattered, as they prepared them for packing, in confusion all over the floor. Ada's brother Robert, the nurse and a hired man were all at work ; so busy that they seemed scarce to have time to ask a question. Mrs. Morehouse was the moving spirit of the whole troupe, and gave directions to all, in a cheerful voice, and had a pleasant word and a smile for every one; so that no one, to see and hear her, could for a moment imagine that her heart was sick and sad within her. But Mrs. Morehouse's was truly a fine character. She now appreciated the mistake she made in preventing Ada from accompanying her husband to Cal- ifornia, and was determined to do all she could to lessen the sor- row she saw that mistake had brought. The door bell rang just as Ada and her mother had finished packing a trunk containing clothes for the children.
" Oh, mother," exclaimed Ada, " that is Alice. How can I meet her ?'
"Courage, my daughter ; courage," said Mrs. Morehouse; " recollect that you have work to do, as you said to me."
" Oh! yes; you are right, darling mother; and thank you for re- minding me."
In a moment more the loving sisters were in each other's arms, but forewarned, as they both had been, they triumphed over the rush of sympathetic thoughts that would otherwise have caused them to give way. Each longed to tell the other how unshaken their confidence was in Edmund's truth and honor, but neither could trust herself to speak his name. Their eyes, however, as they met, said plainly what they dare not let their tongues re- peat in words. Mrs. Morehouse's timely call for assistance was a reminder to both, as it was in fact intended ; so, without a spoken word, Alice hastily threw off her things, and, placing her- self under Mrs. Morehouse's directions, was, like the others, an active worker in Ada's preparations for her long journey. At six o'clock that afternoon all was declared ready. About this time Mr. Morehouse appeared, informing them that he had bought tickets for the passage of Ada and the two children to San Francisco, and had secured a stateroom which they were to have all to themselves. He had seen the Captain, who promised to do all in his power to make Ada comfortable. He had also procured a letter to the Captain of the steamer on the Pacific
382
PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
side, which would insure her kind attention when she would reach that part of her trip. He had also procured a draft for a thousand dollars on San Francisco, and some letters to three or four prominent mercantile firms in that city. This he did to pro- vide against any possible contingency of her wanting either money or friends on her arrival there.
When Mr. Morehouse took Ada aside and explained all this to her, she thanked and kissed him; but, with a confident smile, told him that his precaution about her reception in San Fran- cisco was all unnecessary; "for, dear father," she continued, "I shall find in San Francisco as true and loving a husband as ever woman met."
" I cannot help believing so, also, my darling child; yet it is not right to run any risk in such a case as this. You need use neither money nor letters, if you find all as we hope you will."
The next morning the terrible parting scene came, but all bore up well, and even appeared cheerful. As they reached the steamer, there was only time for Mr. Morehouse and Alfred to conduct Ada and the children to their stateroom and hastily re- turn to the wharf. There they found poor Mrs. Morehouse seated in the carriage, with her head resting on Alice's shoulder, in a fit of hysterical weeping and sobbing, as she exclaimed: " My child! my child! oh, my sweet, darling child! I shall never see her again. She is gone, yes, gone forever!"
Alice now acted the daughter's part, and did and said all she could think of to soothe and console; but Mrs. Morehouse re- sponded: " Oh, you are young, Alice, and will live to see her again, but at my age, how can I hope for such a joy ? Oh, Cali- fornia! California! why have you come to break the hearts and destroy the sweet, dear homes that were all so happy-oh yes, so happy, until we heard of your gold ?"
On the way home Mr. Morehouse joined with Alice in efforts to console the poor mother, but it was days before she recov- ered her composure, so as to be anything like her former self.
CHAPTER XIV.
SAN FRANCISCO-THE PRETTY LITTLE COTTAGE.
Now, the steamer, with Ada Allen and her two children on board, dashes out to sea, and Ada's face and all her thoughts are turned to San Francisco. The care of the children, who were sea-sick for the first few days, gave her constant employment, and obliged her, in a measure, to forget her own great anxiety. The voyage was favorable in all respects, and Ada found herself all safe in San Francisco, on the night you were first introduced to her, my young readers, when we left her and the children, as you will recollect, in a carriage, with Captain George Casserly, just turning out of Washington street into Stockton, when little Alice says: "The man on the corner is choking, he coughs so hard;" and which coughing disappoints Captain Casserly, as it informs him that his message, intended to put Edmund on his guard, did not reach him; and this brings the Captain to the con- clusion that he will have to send Mrs. Bucket's over-dressed creature flying from the cottage, at which they are about to stop. The carriage now stops opposite a neat white cottage, with the pretty little Gothic gate in the front fence, just as described in the paper the Captain has, which Mrs. Bucket wrote for Mrs. Morehouse. As the carriage stopped, Ada thought her heart stopped too, or that she was, in fact, in some frightful dream. Little Alice jumped up and cried out: "Oh, Ma, here is Pa's house," and little Willard called out: " Where, Alice ? Oh, yes, I see." But Ada heard neither. She had let down the carriage window, and, leaning forward, her eyes were fixed on Captain Casserly, who had jumped from the carriage, and was now pulling the door-bell. The door opened, and a colored boy of, perhaps, twelve years of age, made his appearance. Though the Captain spoke intentionally in a very low tone, as he asked, " Is your master in, boy ?" Ada heard the question as if it were spoken with a trumpet in her ear.
384
PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
" No," said the boy; " he is at the theater."
Ada gasped for breath, but held her listening position without the least motion, as the Captain asked the next question:
" Is the lady in ?"
" No; she is with him at the theater,"
As Ada heard the answer, she covered her face with her hands, and dropped her head down so as to rest it on the carriage door. She murmured to herself, while making a desperate strug- gle to retain her self-control:
" I told father I was no weak child; that I was a woman, worthy to be a wife and mother."
Then, for an instant, her whole thoughts were on God, as, in her heart, she made an act of submission, and again murmured: " Thy will, not mine, be done."
Strength, and almost life, seemed to come back to her; for now she raised her head quickly and spoke to Captain Casserly, who, for a minute or two, had stood by the carriage door, appa- rently perplexed as how to proceed. The tone of her voice was calm, but almost a whisper:
" Well, Captain, there is nothing for it but to go in and wait."
" Ah," said the Captain to himself, " she is of the right spunk; yes, she will go through all right." Then he answered Ada:
" You are right, Mrs. Allen; there is nothing for it but to do as you say."
As he said this, he threw open the carriage door, at the same time telling the driver to take down the two trunks and carry them into the cottage. He now helped Ada and the children to alight, and, observing that Ada was trembling and greatly agi- tated, he offered her his arm, and, in a kind, almost confidential tone of voice, said: "Now, Mrs. Allen, you must have courage, for the sake of the children, and then it may be that you will find everything all right yet."
By this time the Captain had no idea that " everything was all right," but he had a plan in his head to deceive Ada.
" Thank you, Captain," said Ada; "you are very kind."
They now entered the cottage, and the children ran all over it, to the dismay of the colored boy, who stood gazing at the whole party now taking possession of the house, with his lips wide apart and his eyes all white, they were so wide open, but uttering not a word. After the trunks and all the traps were
385
PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
comfortably stowed away, Captain Casserly drew Ada aside and said: " Now, Mrs. Allen, I will leave you; but I will remain within one hundred yards of this cottage until you have seen Mr. Allen; because," he continued, so as to put her at her ease; " Mr. Allen or you might want to see me-at least, there is a possibility of such a thing. So don't be uneasy; I will be close at hand."
She made no reply but simply " Thank you," with emphasis, and the Captain was gone.
Again the children proved a relief to Ada, as they demanded her attention, and so partly saved her from her own thoughts. After running into every corner of the house, little Willard dis- covered on the sideboard some bread and butter, and, without ceremony, he and little Alice helped themselves. After they had eaten all they wanted, little Willard threw himself on a sofa he found in the little back parlor, and fell fast asleep. Little Alice took her mother's large, warm shawl, and spread it over him; and when she had it fixed, the little nest looked so comfortable she herself slipped under the shawl, and was soon dreaming of ships, steamboats and police captains. Ada approached, and, though sad and anxious, she smiled when she looked at her dar- lings in their sweet sleep, and exclaimed:
" Oh, how sweet! Could I but lie down by you, my angels, and sleep on, sleep on, forever."
Then suddenly seeming to recollect herself, she continued:
" Oh, no; what am I talking of? The charge is false; I know it is; it must be."
Then she fixed the shawl more carefully about the children, and, walking towards a door that opened into a bed-room off the back parlor, she looked curiously in. The room was almost ele- gantly furnished. The carpet was a handsome Brussels. The bureau and wash-stand had marble tops; the mirror was a large, French plate one; the bedstead was of rose-wood; there were two large rocking-chairs, in red plusb. It was, in fact, one of the snuggest and most elegant little bed-rooms that could be imagined. The colored boy had followed Ada as she went to- ward the room, with a suspicious sort of a look. She turned to him and said, in a low, hesitating voice:
" Who occupies this room ?"
" My master," said the boy, bluntly.
" And who else ?" said Ada, in a more excited tone. 25
386
PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
" My mistress," again responded the half-angry boy.
Ada grew deadly pale, and, turning away, went into the front parlor. She threw herself into a rocking-chair near the fire that burned cheerfully in that room; she clasped her hands across her breast, while she let her head rest sideways on the chair. In this position her face was turned towards the parlor door that opened into the hall. Her eyes were fixed on this open doorway with an intensity of expression not to be described. Just then her attentive ear detects the sound of a footstep; it is yet on the street, but the blood rushes quickly back on her heart; she hears it now at the gateway; it is his, every nerve of her system proclaiming it to her; she hears the pass-key in the door- lock; her eyes grow dim, but again she struggles and prays to God for strength; it comes; she rises to her feet, but finds she cannot move from the spot, and there she remains like a statue, with her eyes staring at the open doorway.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.