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A Late Supper
by
“I don’t know,” said Miss Spring’s nephew, in real trouble by this time.
They went out together, and looked everywhere along the road, apologizing to each other as they did so. They went up and down the railroad for some little distance, and it was a great relief not to find her there. Joseph asked some men if they had seen his aunt; and when they said no, wonderingly, and expected an explanation, he did not give it, he hardly knew why. They went to the house beyond Miss Catherine’s, though Martha and Miss Stanby were sure she had not gone by. They looked in the barn even: they went out into the garden and through the house, for she might possibly have come in without being seen; but she had apparently disappeared from the face of the earth.
It had seemed so foolish at first to tell the neighbors; but by seven o’clock, or nearly that, Martha Spring said decisively, “She cannot have gone far unless she has been carried off. I think you had better get some men, and have a regular hunt for her before it gets any darker. I’m not going home to-night until we find her.” And they owned to each other that it was a very serious and frightful thing. Miss Stanby looked most concerned and apprehensive of the three, and suggested what had been uppermost in her mind all the time,–that it would be so awful if poor Miss Spring had been murdered, or could she have killed herself? There was something so uncharacteristic in the idea of Miss Catherine’s committing suicide, that for a moment her nephew could not resist a smile; but he was grave enough again directly, for it might be true, after all, and he remembered with a thrill of horror that old Mr. Elden, the lawyer, had told him in confidence, that Miss Spring was somewhat pinched for money,–that her affairs were in rather a bad way, and perhaps he had better talk with her, as he himself did not like to have all the responsibility of advising her.
“Poor old lady!” thought Joseph Spring, who was a tender-hearted man. “She looked to-day as if she felt bad about something. She has grown old this last year, that’s a fact!” It seemed to him as if she were in truth dead already. “You had better look all over the house,” said he to his wife. “Did you look in the garret?” He remembered the story that his great-grandfather had been found hanging there, and could not have gone to the garret himself to save his life.
He went hurrying out of the house, determined now to make the disappearance public. He would go to the depot, there were always some men there at this time. The church-bell began to ring for Wednesday-evening meeting, and she had always gone so regularly; he would hurry back there, and tell the people as they came. The train went by slowly to stop at the station, it was a little behind time. He hurried on, looking down as he walked. To tell the truth, he was thinking about the funeral, and suddenly he heard a familiar voice say,–
“Well, Joseph! I suppose you thought I was lost!”
“Heavens and earth, Aunt Catherine! Where have you been?” And he caught her by the shoulder, and felt suddenly like crying and laughing together. “I never had any thing come over me so in all my life,” said he to his wife and Miss Stanby, as they went home later that evening. “I declare, it took the wits right out of me.”
Miss Catherine looked brighter than she had that afternoon, the excitement really had done her good; she told her adventure as they hurried home together. When they reached the house Martha Spring and Miss Stanby kissed her, and cried as if their hearts would break. Joseph looked out of the window a few minutes, and then announced that he would go out and see to the horse.