"If my father had not done justice to Tina in his will," said Harry, "I should have done it. My sister should not have gone to any man a beggar."
"I know that, my dear," said Miss Mehitable, "but still it is a pleasure to think that your father did it. It was a justice to your mother's memory that I am glad he rendered."
And when is this marriage to take place?" said I.
"Mr. Davenport wants to carry her away in June," said Miss Mehitable. "That leaves but little time; but he says he must go to join the English Embassy, certainly by midsummer, and as there seems to be a good reason for his haste, I suppose I must not put my feelings in the way. It seems now as if I had had her only a few days, and she has been so very sweet and lovely to me. Well," said she, after a moment, "I suppose the old sweetbrier-bushes feel lonesome when we cut their blossoms and carry them off; but the old thorny things must n't have blossoms if they don't expect to have them taken. That 's all we scraggly old people are good for."
CHAPTER XLIII.
WHAT OUR FOLKS THOUGHT ABOUT IT.
AT home, that evening, before the great open fire, still the same subject was discussed. Tina's engagement to Ellery Davenport was spoken of as the next most brilliant stroke of luck to Harry's accession to the English property. Aunt Lois was all smiles and suavity, poor dear old soul! How all the wrinkles and crinkles of her face smoothed out under the influence of prosperity! and how providential everything appeared to her!
"Providence gets some pay-days," said an old divine. Generally speaking, his account is suffered to run on with very lax attention. But when a young couple make a fortunate engagement, or our worldly prospects take a sudden turn to go as we would, the account of Providence is gladly balanced; praise and thanksgiving come in over-measure.
For my part, I could n't see the Providence at all in it, and found this looking into happiness through other people's eyes a very fatiguing operation.
My grandfather and grandmother, as they sat pictured out by the light of a magnificent hickory fire, seemed scarcely a year older; but their faces this evening were beaming complacently; and my mother, in her very quiet way, could scarcely help triumphing over Aunt Lois. I was a sophomore in Cambridge, and Harry a landed proprietor, and Tina an heiress to property in her own right, instead of our being three poor orphan children without any money, and with the up-hill of life to climb.
In the course of the evening, Miss Mehitable came in with Ellery Davenport and Tina. Now, much as a man will dislike the person who steps between him and the lady of his love, I could not help, this evening, myself feeling the power of that fascination by which Ellery Davenport won the suffrages of all hearts.
Aunt Lois, as usual, was nervous and fidgety with the thought that the call of the splendid Mr. Davenport had surprised them all at the great kitchen-fire, when there was the best room cold as Nova Zembla. She looked almost reproachfully at Tina, and said apologetically to Mr. Davenport, "We are rough working folks, and you catch us just as we are. If we 'd known you were coming, we 'd have had a fire in the parlor."
"Then, Miss Badger, you would have been very cruel, and deprived us of a rare enjoyment," said he. "What other land but our own America can give this great, joyous, abundant home-fire? The great kitchen-fire of New England," he added, seating himself admiringly in front of it, "gives you all the freshness and simplicity of forest life, with a sense of shelter and protection. It 's like a camp-fire in the woods, only that you have a house over you, and a good bed to sleep in at hand; and there is nothing that draws out the heart like it. People never can talk to each other as they do by these great open fires. For my part," he said, "I am almost a Fire-worshipper. I believe in the divine properties of flame. It purifies the heart and warms the affections, and when people sit and look into the coals together, they feel a sort of glow of charity coming over them that they never feel anywhere else."
"Now, I should think," said Aunt Lois, "Mr. Davenport, that you must have seen so much pomp and splendor and luxury abroad, that our rough life here would seem really disagreeable to you."
"Quite the contrary," said Ellery Davenport. "We go abroad to appreciate our home. Nature is our mother, and the life that is lived nearest to nature is, after all, the one that is the pleasantest. I met Brant at court last winter. You know he was a wild Indian to begin with, and he has seen both extremes, for now he is Colonel Brant, and has been moving in fashionable society in London. So I thought he must be a competent person to decide on the great question between savage and civilized life and he gave his vote for the savage."
"I wonder at him," said my grandmother.
"Well, I remember," said Tina, "we had one day and night of savage life - don't you remember, Harry? - that was very pleasant. It was when we stayed with the old Indian woman, - do you remember? It was all very well, so long as the son shone; but then when the rain fell, and the wind blew, and the drunken Indian came home, it was not so pleasant."
"That was the time, young lady," said Ellery Davenport, looking at her with a flash in his blue eyes, "that you established yourself as housekeeper on my premises! If I had only known it, I might have picked you up then, as a waif on my grounds."
"It 's well you did not," said Tina, laughing; "you would have found me troublesome to keep. I don't believe you would have been as patient as dear old Aunty, here," she added, laying her head on Miss Mehitable's shoulder. "I was a perfect brier-rose, - small leaves and a great many prickles."
"By the by," said Harry, "Sam Lawson has been telling us, this morning, about our old friends Miss Asphyxia Smith and Old Crab."
"Is it possible," said Tina, laughing, "that those creatures are living yet? Why, I look back on them as some awful pre-Adamite monsters."
"Who was Miss Asphyxia?" said Ellery Davenport. "I have n't heard of her."
"O, 't was a great threshing-machine of a woman that caught me between its teeth some years ago," said Tina. "What do you suppose would ever have become of me, Aunty, if she had kept me? Do you think she ever could have made me a great stramming, threshing, scrubbing, floor-cleaning machine, like herself? She warned Miss Mehitable," continued Tina, looking at Ellery and laughing shyly, "that I never should grow up to be good for anything; and she spoke a fatal truth, for, since she gave me up, every mortal creature has tried to pet and spoil me. Dear old Aunty and Mr. Rossiter have made some feeble attempts to make me good for something, but they have n't done much at it."
"Thank Heaven!" said Ellery Davenport. "Who would think of training a wild rose? I sometimes look at the way a sweet-brier grows over one of our rough stone walls, and think what a beautiful defiance it is to gardeners."
"That is all very pretty to say," said Tina, "when you happen to be where there are none but wild roses; but when you were among marchionesses and duchesses, how was it then?"
For answer, Ellery Davenport bent over her, and said something which I could not hear. He had the art, without seeming to whisper, of throwing a sentence from him so that it should reach but one ear; and Tina laughed and blushed and dimpled, and looked as if a thousand little graces were shaking their wings around her.
It was one of Tina's great charms that she was never for a moment at rest. In this she was like a bird, or a brook, or a young tree, in which there is always a little glancing shimmer of movement. And when anything pleased her, her face sparkled as a river does when something falls into it. I noticed Ellery Davenport's eyes followed all these little motions as if he had been enchanted. O, there was no doubt that the great illusion, the delicious magic, was in full development between them. And Tina looked so gladly satisfied, and glanced about the circle and at him with such a quiet triumph of possession, and such satisfaction in her power over him, that it really half reconciled me to see that she was so happy. And, after all, I thought to myself as I looked at the airy and spirituel style of her beauty, - a beauty that conveyed the impression of fragility and brilliancy united to the highest point, - such a creature as that is made for luxury, made for perfume an
d flowers and jewelry and pomp of living and obsequious tending, for old aristocratic lands and court circles, where she would glitter as a star. And what had I to offer, - I, a poor sophomore in Harvard, owing that position to the loving charity of my dear old friend? My love to her seemed a madness and a selfishness, - as if I had wished to take the evening star out of the heavens and burn it for a household lamp. "How fortunate, how fortunate," I thought to myself," that I have never told her! For now I shall keep the love of her heart. We are friends, and she shall be the lady of my heart forever, - the lady of my dreams."
I knew, too, that I had a certain hold upon her; and even at this moment I saw her eye often, as from old habit, looking across to me, a little timidly and anxiously, to see what I thought of her prize. She was Tina still, - the same old Tina, that always needed to be approved and loved and sympathized with, and have all her friends go with her, heart and hand, in all her ways. So I determined to like him.
At this moment Sam Lawson came in. I was a little curious to know how he had managed it with his conscience to leave his domestic circle under their trying circumstances, but I was very soon satisfied as to this point.
Sam, who had watched the light flaring out from the windows, and flattened his nose against the window-pane while he announced to Hepsy that "Mr. Davenport and Miss Mehitable and Tiny were all a goin' into the Deacon's to spend th' evenin'," could not resist the inexpressible yearning to have a peep himself at what was going on there.
He came in with a most prostrate air of dejection. Aunt Lois frowned with stern annoyance, and looked at my grandmother, as much as to say, "To think he should come in when Mr. Davenport is making a call here!"
Ellery Davenport, however, received him with a patronizing cheerfulness, - "Why, hulloa, Sam, how are you?" It was Ellery Davenport's delight to start Sam's loquacity and develop his conversational powers, and he made a welcoming movement toward the block of wood in the chimney-corner. "Sit down," he said,- "sit down, and tell us how Hepsy and the children are."
Tina and he looked at each other with eyes dancing with merriment.
"Wal, wal," said Sam, sinking into the seat and raising his lank hands to the fire, while his elbows rested on his knees, "the children 's middlin - Doctor Merrill ses he thinks they 've got past the wust on 't, - but Hepsy, she 's clean tuckered out, and kind o' discouraged. An' I thought I 'd come over an' jest ask Mis' Badger ef she would n't kind o' jest mix 'er up a little milk punch to kind o' set 'er up agin.'"
"What a considerate husband!" said Ellery Davenport, glancing around the circle with infinite amusement.
My grandmother, always prompt at any call on her charity was already half across the floor toward her buttery, whence she soon returned with a saucepan of milk.
"I 'll watch that 'ere, Mis' Badger," said Sam. "Jest rake out the coals this way, an' when it begins ter simmer I 'll put in the sperits, ef ye 'll gin 'em to me. 'Give strong drink ter him as is ready to perish,' the Scriptur' says. Hepsy 's got an amazin sight o' grit in 'er, but I 'clare for 't, she 's ben up an' down nights so much lately with them young uns thet she 's a 'most clean wore out. An' I should be too, ef I did n't take a tramp now 'n' then to kind o' keep me up. Wal, ye see, the head o' the family, he hes to take car' o' himself, 'cause ye see, ef he goes down, all goes down. 'The man is the head o' the woman,' ye know," said Sam, as he shook his skillet of milk.
I could see Tina's eyes dancing with mirthfulness as Ellery Davenport answered, "I 'm glad to see, Sam, that you have a proper care of your health. You are such an important member of the community, that I don't know what Oldtown would be without you!"
"Wal, now, Mr. Devenport, ye flatter me; but then everybody don't seem to think so. I don't think folks like me, as does for this one an' does for that one, an' kind o' spreads out permiskus is appreciated allers. There 's Hepsy, she 's allers at me, a sayin' I don't do nothin' for her, an' yet there las' night I wus up in my shirt, a shiverin' an' a goin' round, fust ter one and then ter 'nuther, a hevin' on em up an' a thumpin' on their backs, an clarin' the phlegm out o' their thruts, till I wus e'en a 'most fruz and Hepsy, she lay there abed scoldin' 'cause I hed n't sawed no wood thet arternoon to keep up the fire. Lordy massy, I jest went out ter dig a leetle sweet-flag root ter gin ter the boys, 'cause I wus so kind o' wore out. I don't think these 'ere women ever 'flects on men's trials. They railly don't keep count o' what we do for 'em."
"What a picture of conjugal life!" said Ellery Davenport glancing at Tina. "Yes, Sam, it is to be confessed that the female sex are pretty exorbitant creditors. They make us pay dear for serving them."
"Jes' so, jes' so!" said Sam. "They don't know nothin' what we undergo. I don't think Hepsy keeps no sort o' count o' the nights an' nights I 've walked the floor with the baby, whishin' an' shooin' on 't, and singin' to 't till my thrut wus sore, an' then hed to git up afore daylight to split oven-wood, an then right to my blacksmithin', jest to git a little money to git the meat an meal an' suthin' comfort'ble fur dinner! An' then, ye see, there don't nothin' last, when there 's so many mouths to eat it up; an' there 't is, it 's jest roun' an' roun'. Ye git a good piece o' beef Tuesday an' pay for 't, an' by Thursday it 's all gone, an' ye hev to go to work agin! Lordy massy, this 'ere life don't seem hardly wuth hevin'. I s'pose, Mr. Devenport, you 've been among the gret folks o' th' earth, over there in King George's court? Why, they say here that you 've ben an' tuk tea with the king, with his crown on 's head! I s'pose they all goes roun' with their crowns on over there; don't they?"
"Well, no, not precisely," said Ellery Davenport "I think they rather mitigate their splendors when they have to do with us poor republicans, so as not to bear us down altogether."
"Jes' so," said Sam, "like Moses, that put a veil over 's face 'cause th' Israelites could n't bear the glory."
"Well," said Ellery Davenport, "I 've not been struck with any particular resemblance between King George and Moses."
"The folks here 'n Oldtown, Mr. Davenport, 's amazin' curus to hear the partic'lars 'bout them grand things 't you must ha' seen; I 's a tellin' on 'em up to store how you 'd ben with lords 'n' ladies 'n' dukes 'n' duchesses, 'n' seen all the kingdoms o' the world, an' the glory on 'em. I told 'em I did n't doubt you 'd et off 'm plates o' solid gold, an' ben in houses where the walls was all a crust o' gold 'n' diamonds 'n' precious stones, 'n' yit ye did n't seem ter be one bit lifted up nor proud, so 't yer could n't talk ter common folks. I s'pose them gret fam'lies they hes as much 's fifty ur a hunderd servants, don't they?"
"Well, sometimes," said Ellery Davenport.
"Wal, now," said Sam "I sh'd think a man 'd feel kind o' curus, - sort o' 's ef he was keepin' a hotel, an' boardin' all the lower classes."
"It is something that way, Sam," said Ellery Davenport. "That 's one way of providing for the lower classes."
"Jest what th' Lord told th' Israelites when they would hev a king," said Sam. "Ses he, 'He 'll take yer daughters to be confectioners 'n' cooks 'n' bakers, an' he 'll take the best o' yer fields 'n' yer vineyards 'n' olive-yards, an' give 'em to his sarvints, an' he 'll take a tenth o' yer seed 'n' give 'em ter his officers, an' he'll take yer men-sarvints 'n' yer maid-sarvints, 'n' yer goodliest young asses, an' put 'em ter his works."
"Striking picture of monarchical institutions, Sam," said Ellery Davenport.
"Wal, now, I tell ye what," said Sam, slowly shaking his shimmering skillet of milk, "I should n't want ter git inter that ere' pie, unless I could be some o' the top crust. It 's jest like a pile o' sheepskins, -'s only the top un lies light. I guess th' undermost one 's squeezed putty flat."
"I 'll bet it is, Sam," said Ellery Davenport, laughing.
"Wal," said Sam, "I go for republics, but yit it 's human natur' ter kind o' like ter hold onter titles. Now over here a man likes ter be a deacon 'n' a cap'n 'n' a colonel in the military 'n' a sheriff 'n' a judge, 'n' all thet. Lordy massy, I don't wonder them grand English folks sticks to their grand titles, an' the people all kind o' bows down
to 'em, as they did to Nebuchadnezzar's golden image."
"Why, Sam," said Ellery Davenport, "your speculations on politics are really profound."
"Wal," said Sam, "Mr. Davenport, there 's one pint I want ter consult ye 'bout, an' thet is, what the king o' England's name is. There 's Jake Marshall 'n' me, we 's argood that pint these many times. Jake ses his name is George Rix, - R-i-x, - an' thet ef he 'd come over here, he 'd be called Mr. Rix. I ses to him, 'Why, Jake, 't ain't Rix, it 's Rex, an' 't ain't his name, it 's his title, ses I, - 'cause the boys told me thet Rex was Latin 'n' meant king; but Jake 's one o' them fellers thet allers thinks he knows. Now, Mr. Devenport, I 'd like to put it down from you ter him 'cause you 've just come from the court o' England an' you 'd know."
"Well, you may tell your friend Jake that you are quite in the right," said Ellery Davenport. "Give him my regards, and tell him he 's been mistaken."
"But you don't call the king Rex when ye speak to 'im, d' yer?" said Sam.
"Not precisely," said Ellery Davenport.
"Mis' Badger," said Sam, gravely, "this 'ere milk 's come to the bile, 'n' ef you 'll be so kind 's to hand me the sperits 'n' the sugar. I 'll fix this 'ere. Hepsy likes her milk punch putty hot."
"Well, Sam," said my grandmother, as she handed him the bottle, "take an old woman's advice, and don't go stramming off another afternoon. If you 'd been steady at your blacksmithin', you might have earned enough money to buy all these things yourself, and Hepsy 'd like it a great deal better."
"I suppose it 's about the two hundred and forty-ninth time mother has told him that," said Aunt Lois, with an air of weary endurance.