Heart-Histories and Life-Pictures

A short time after the occurrence of this little interview, Mr. May, on returning home one evening, found his wife in much apparent trouble.

"Has anything gone wrong, Ella?" he asked.

"Would you have believed it?" was Mrs. May's quick and excited answer. "I caught Jane in my drawer to-day, with a ten dollar bill in her hand which she had just taken out of my pocket book, that was still open."

"Why, Ella!"

"It is too true! I charged it at once upon her, and she burst into tears, and owned that she was going to take the money and keep it."

"That accounts, then, for the frequency with which you have missed small sums of money for several months past."

"Yes. That is all plain enough now. But what shall we do? I cannot think of keeping Jane any longer."

"Perhaps she will never attempt such a thing again, now that she has been discovered."

"I cannot trust her. I should never feel safe a moment. To have a thief about the house! Oh, no, That would never answer. She will have to go."

"Well, Ella, you will have to do what you think best; but you mustn't be too hard on the poor creature. You mustn't think of exposing her, and thus blasting her character. It might drive her to ruin."

"But, is it right for me, knowing what she is, to let her go quietly into another family? It is a serious matter, husband."

"I don't know that you have anything to do with that. The safest thing, in my opinion, is for you to talk seriously to Jane, and warn her of the consequences of acts such as she has been guilty of. And then let her go, trusting that she will reform."

"But there is another fault that I have discovered within a week or two past. A fault that I suspected, but was not sure about. It is a very bad one."

"What is that, Ella?"

"I do not think she is kind to the baby."

"What?"

"I have good reason for believing that she is not kind to our dear little babe. I partly suspected this for some time. More than once I have came suddenly upon her, and found our sweet pet sobbing as if his heart would break. The expression in Jane's face I could not exactly understand. Light has gradually broken in upon me, and now I am satisfied that she has abused him shamefully."

"Ella?"

"It is too true. Since my suspicions were fully aroused, I have asked Hannah about it, and she, unwillingly, has confirmed my own impressions."

"Unwillingly! It was her duty to have let you know this voluntarily. Treat my little angel Charley unkindly! The wretch! She doesn't remain in this house a day longer."

"So I have fully determined. I am afraid that Jane has a wretched disposition. It is bad enough to steal, but to ill-treat a helpless, innocent babe, is fiend-like."

Jane was accordingly dismissed.

"Poor creature!" said Mrs. May, after Jane had left the house; "I feel sorry for her. She is, after all, the worst enemy to herself. I don't know what will become of her."

"She'll get a place somewhere."

"Yes, I suppose so. But, I hope she won't refer to me for her character. I don't know what I should say, if she did."

"If I couldn't say any good, I wouldn't say any harm, Ella. It's rather a serious matter to break down the character of a poor girl."

"I know it is; for that is all they have to depend upon. I shall have to smooth it over some how, I suppose."

"Yes: put the best face you can upon it. I have no doubt but she will do better in another place."

On the next day, sure enough, a lady called to ask about the character of Jane.

"How long has she been with you?" was one of the first questions asked.

"About six months," replied Mrs. May.

"In the capacity of nurse, I think she told me?"

"Yes. She was my nurse."

"Was she faithful?"

This was a trying question. But it had to be answered promptly, and it was so answered.

"Yes, I think I may call her quite a faithful nurse. She never refused to carry my little boy out; and always kept him very clean."

"She kept him nice, did she? Well, that is a recommendation. And I want somebody who will not be above taking my baby into the street. But how is her temper?"

"A little warm sometimes. But then, you know, perfection is not to be attained any where."

"No, that is very true. You think her a very good nurse?"

"Yes, quite equal to the general run."

"I thank you very kindly," said the lady rising. "I hope I shall find, in Jane, a nurse to my liking."

"I certainly hope so," replied Mrs. May, as she attended her to the door.

"What do you think?" said Mrs. May to her husband, when he returned in the evening.—"That Jane had the assurance to send a lady here to inquire about her character."

"She is a pretty cool piece of goods, I should say. But, I suppose she trusted to your known kind feelings, not to expose her."

"No doubt that was the reason. But, I can tell her that I was strongly tempted to speak out the plain truth. Indeed, I could hardly contain myself when the lady told me that she wanted her to nurse a little infant. I thought of dear Charley, and how she had neglected and abused him—the wretched creature! But I restrained myself, and gave her as good a character as I could."

"That was right. We should not let our indignant feelings govern us in matters of this kind. We can never err on the side of kindness."

"No, I am sure we cannot."

Mrs. Campbell, the lady who had called upon Mrs. May, felt quite certain that, in obtaining Jane for a nurse, she had been fortunate. She gave, confidently, to her care, a babe seven months old. At first, from a mother's natural instinct, she kept her eye upon Jane; but every thing going on right, she soon ceased to observe her closely. This was noted by the nurse, who began to breathe with more freedom. Up to this time, the child placed in her charge had received the kindest attentions. Now, however, her natural indifference led her to neglect him in various little ways, unnoticed by the mother, but felt by the infant. Temptations were also thrown in her way by the thoughtless exposure of money and jewelry. Mrs. Campbell supposed, of course, that she was honest, or she would have been notified of the fact by Mrs. May, of whom she had inquired Jane's character; and, therefore, never thought of being on her guard in this respect. Occasionally he could not help thinking that there ought to be more money in her purse than there was. But she did not suffer this thought to rise into a suspicion of unfair dealing against any one. The loss of a costly breast pin, the gift of a mother long since passed into the invisible world, next worried her mind; but, even this did not cause her to suspect that any thing was wrong with her nurse.

This the time passed on, many little losses of money and valued articles disturbing and troubling the mind of Mrs. Campbell, until it became necessary to wean her babe. This duty was assigned to Jane, who took the infant to sleep with her. On the first night, it cried for several hours—in fact, did not permit Jane to get more than a few minutes sleep at a time all night. Her patience was tried severely. Sometimes she would hold the distressed child with angry violence to her bosom, while it screamed with renewed energy; and then, finding that it still continued to cry, toss it from her upon the bed, and let it lie, still screaming, until fear lest its mother should be tempted to come to her distressed babe, would cause her again to take it to her arms. A hard time had that poor child of it on that first night of its most painful experience in the world. It was scolded, shaken, and even whipped by the unfeeling nurse, until, at last, worn out nature yielded, and sleep threw its protecting mantle over the wearied babe.

"How did you get along with Henry?" was the mother's eager question, as she entered Jane's room soon after daylight.