Chapter II

Uncle Joseph was a Calcutta merchant, in which capacity he had accumulated an immense fortune. Being a bachelor, the probable disposition of his property became a question of considerable interest among his relations.

The family of Mr. Mason, the merchant introduced in the last chapter, included but two children, a son and a daughter.

Grace was the only daughter of a sister, recently deceased, who had been for many years a widow.

It was supposed that uncle Joseph would make one of his nieces his heiress. This was the old fellow’s whim, and no one could gainsay the whim of a bachelor. From some indications of preference which he had bestowed upon Henrietta in her childhood, it was generally believed that she would prove to be the fortunate one.

Henrietta had been educated to be a lady. Her delicate fingers were never soiled by rude collision with pots and kettles, and she had been taught to believe that it was delicate sensibility to be afraid of a spider or a bullfrog. She played the piano with passable skill, and lingered away half her time at full length on the sofa, poring over the contents of a novel.

Such was the prospective heiress of uncle Joseph’s large fortune. Her father was far from approving the education she had received, and had used all the influence he possessed, short of quarreling, to have these defects remedied.

Uncle Joseph came, and was welcomed as became the dignity of one who had a fortune to bestow.

Henrietta thought he was a “dear love” of a man, and she wondered that the ladies ever let him remain a bachelor.

Grace, by the contrivance of Mrs. Mason, was not present when her uncle arrived; but Mr. Mason, understanding the trick, sought her in person, and introduced her to the man of money.

The poor girl was too modest and retiring to force herself upon the notice of uncle Joseph, who was too deeply absorbed by the unremitting attentions of Henrietta to perceive her situation, or discover the mental capacity in which she acted.

At tea, uncle Joseph complained of being ill, and said that he had not been well since he landed on the previous day.

Mrs. Mason and her daughter were all sympathy. The ailing bachelor was conducted to his apartment, and herb teas and jugs of hot water were put in requisition. Henrietta volunteered to sit all night by his bedside and minister to his wants; but the sick man did not deem it necessary.

During all this confusion, Grace was not to be seen. She was not permitted to assist in the preparations for the sick man’s comfort; everything must be done by Henrietta’s own hand.

Notwithstanding the kind attentions lavished upon uncle Joseph, there was no improvement in his condition; but on the contrary, he rapidly grew worse, and at midnight the physician was sent for. Henrietta had not left the bedside for a moment. She was the most devoted creature in the world, and the bachelor could not but contrast her devotion with the utter neglect of Grace, who had not once entered his room, even to inquire how he did. Henrietta’s prospects were decidedly brilliant.

The physician came, and after feeling the pulse of the sufferer, inquired where he resided when at home.

Uncle Joseph replied that he had no home—had just come from Calcutta.

“I see,” said the physician. “Was there any sickness on board the ship?”

“There was. I came by the overland route to Liverpool, thence by a New York liner. There was a steerage full of emigrants on board, among whom the fever raged fearfully.”

“Just so,” returned the physician, “and you have got the ship fever.”

“The ship fever!” exclaimed Henrietta, rushing out of the room.

The sick man turned, and witnessed her abrupt departure. With a sigh, such as can only be wrung from a bachelor conscious of his loneliness, he drew the bedclothes closely around him, and apparently abandoned himself to the fate which the dreadful disease seemed to foreshadow.

The physician made up his prescription and retired. No one was left with uncle Joseph but his brother.

“I am deserted, brother,” said the sick man.

“No, brother, I am here.”

“But there is no hand of woman here; well, it is a dreadful disease,” and the sufferer sighed again.

Mr. Mason went down to the sitting room, whither his wife and daughter had fled.

“How is this, wife? Is Joseph to be abandoned now that he most needs attention?” asked he of Mrs. Mason.

“You don’t think we are going to stay in the same room with the ship fever?” replied Mrs. Mason.

“You may as well be in the room as in the house.”

“We must leave the house immediately. Why did he not go to the hospital? It was not very considerate of him to bring the ship fever into the family. He might have known that he had it.”

“Heaven forgive your heartlessness! But is my brother to die with no one to care for him?” exclaimed Mr. Mason, indignantly.

“You must hire a nurse.”

“And you will desert him?”

“We can’t stay where the ship fever is.”

“No, papa, it would be suicidal,” added Henrietta. “His fortune would do us no good if we caught the fever.”

“Go, then! but there is still one in the house who has a heart,” replied Mr. Mason, as he left the room to seek the apartment of Grace.

Grace was ready in a moment to attend her uncle to the sick room, where, regardless of the danger of contagion, she laved the burning brow of the sufferer, and did all that an angel hand could do to render him comfortable.

Early in the morning, Mrs. Mason and her daughter departed for the residence of a friend in the country.