Left to Ourselves; or, John Headley's Promise. by Catharine Shaw
Left to Ourselves; or, John Headley's Promise. by Catharine Shaw
other, I'm sure you may trust me!"
"My child, I trust you for all that you know; but there are things which no one but a mother can know."
"Of course there are. Oh, I don't for a moment mean that I shall do as well as you, mother, only--"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Headley, thoughtfully, "you see, Agnes, your dear grandmother in America is pronounced to be failing very fast. I have not seen her for twenty years, and if I do not go now I may never see her again in this world."
"And father's having to go there on business now makes it so easy."
"Easy all but leaving you children."
"But I am nineteen now, mother-quite old enough to be trusted; besides, grandmama and aunt Phyllis live next door, and if anything happened I could run in to them."
Mrs. Headley smiled, looking half convinced.
"Who is it you are afraid to leave?" asked Agnes coaxingly. "Is it me, mother?"
"You?" echoed Mrs. Headley, stroking her face tenderly. "No, not you, dear."
"Then it is John."
"No, no; John is a good boy, he will help you I am sure."
"Then is it Hugh?"
"No; Hugh is steady, and very fond of his lessons; and he will be sure to do as you wish him, if he promises beforehand."
"Then is it Alice?"
Mrs. Headley shook her head.
"Then it must be Minnie, for there's no one else. And as to Minnie, you know I love her exactly as if she were my own child."
Mrs. Headley laughed a little, though bright tears filled her eyes and fell down into her lap.
"Don't you think I do?" asked Agnes soberly-not half liking the little laugh, or the tears either for that matter.
"You love her as much as you possibly can, dearest, but that does not give you my experience. No, Agnes, it is not Minnie or any one in particular, but it is the five of you all together that I'm afraid to leave. I am so afraid they might get tired of doing as you said."
"They never have yet, mother. You ask them, and see."
Mrs. Headley looked thoughtfully into the fire, and was silent for a long time. So was Agnes, till at last she roused up suddenly and put her hand into her mother's.
"There's one Friend I shall always have near, nearer than next door; always at hand to help and counsel-eh, mother dear? We had not forgotten Him, only we did not say anything actually about Him."
"Yes, my child, I do not forget; and if I were more trustful I should not be so afraid."
Mrs. Headley rose and left the room just as the door opened, and John came in.
"Holloa, Agnes, all alone in the dark," he exclaimed, stumbling over the stools and chairs. "Why don't you have a light?"
"Mother and I were talking, and we did not want any."
"About America? Don't I wish it was me instead of her, that's all!"
"But, you see, that is not the question," said Agnes, watching her brother lean back against the mantelpiece with nervous eyes. "John, you'll knock something down."
"Not I. Of course it isn't the question; but why doesn't mother want to go?"
"She does want to go; only, you see, John, she's afraid we shall not all get on together."
"Is she afraid we shall quarrel?"
Agnes nodded.
"I shan't."
"Perhaps not."
"But Hugh will?" he asked, smiling.
"Hugh and John together," answered Agnes, smiling too.
"Very likely."
"Do you think you will?" asked his sister, drawing back.
"What a frightened question! Agnes, look here; I'll promise you--"
"What?"
"It takes two to make a quarrel, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll promise you to walk out of the room at the first indication of a squabble. Will that make things straight?"
"If you will not forget."
"If I do, you look at me, and I'll fly, or be 'mum'!"
"All right, I will," answered Agnes soberly. "John, I believe mother thinks she ought to go, and so I am sure we ought to make it easy."
"I mean to."
Agnes kissed him gratefully, but did not speak, yet John understood, and when she had gone out of the room he fancied he felt a tear left on his coat.
He roused himself up, and turned round to poke the fire into a blaze.
"My eye!" he ejaculated, half audibly, "it will be a go to do without mother for three months."
* * *
Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."
Five years into marriage, Hannah caught Vincent slipping into a hotel with his first love-the woman he never forgot. The sight told her everything-he'd married her only for her resemblance to his true love. Hurt, she conned him into signing the divorce papers and, a month later, said, "Vincent, I'm done. May you two stay chained together." Red-eyed, he hugged her. "You came after me first." Her firm soon rocketed toward an IPO. At the launch, Vincent watched her clasp another man's hand. In the fitting room, he cornered her, tears burning in his eyes. "Is he really that perfect? Hannah, I'm sorry... marry me again."
After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."
I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game.
In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?
Leland, the world's most eligible bachelor and powerful President, was rumored to be in love-with Valerie, the nation's favorite punchline. Once rejected by his nephew and scorned for her looks, Valerie faced public outrage for "leeching" off Leland's status and entering government circles. Elite society mocked, rivals sneered. But the tables turned: the mafia king was spotted carrying her bags, scientists begged for her help, and Valerie saved the nation. As chaos erupted, Leland posted on the presidential account. "My wife wants to dump me-how do I win her back? Urgent advice needed!"
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