In the High Valley

  CHAPTER III.

  THE LAST OF DEVON AND THE FIRST OF AMERICA.

  WITH the morrow came the parting from home. "Farewell" is never an easyword to say when seas are to separate those who love each other, but theYoung family uttered it bravely and resolutely. Lionel, who wasimpatient to get to work and to his beloved High Valley, was more thanready to go. His face, among the sober ones, looked aggressivelycheerful.

  "Cheer up, mother," he said, consolingly. "You'll be coming over in ayear or two with the Pater, and Moggy and I will give you such a goodtime as you never had in your lives. We'll all go up to Estes Park andcamp out for a month. I can see you now coming down the trail on aburro,--what fun it will be."

  "Who knows?" said Mrs. Young, with a smile that was half a sigh. She andher husband had sent a good many sons and daughters out into the worldto seek their fortunes, and so far not one of them had come back. To besure, all were doing well in their several ways,--Cyril in India, wherehe had an excellent appointment, and the second boy in the army; twowere in the navy, and Tom and Giles in Van Diemen's Land, where theywere making a very good thing out of a sheep ranch. There was no reasonwhy Lionel should not be equally lucky with his cattle in Colorado;there were younger children to be considered; it was "all in the day'swork," the natural thing. Large families must separate, parents couldnot expect to keep their grown boys and girls with them always. So theydismissed the two who were now going forth cheerfully, uncomplainingly,and with their blessing, but all the same it was not pleasant; and Mrs.Young shed some quiet tears in the privacy of her own room, and herhusband looked very serious as he strode down the Southampton docksafter saying good-by to his children on board the steamer.

  Imogen had never been on a great sea-going vessel before, and it struckher as being very crowded and confused as well as bewilderingly big. Shestood clutching her bags and bundles nervously and feeling homesick andastray while farewells and greetings went on about her, and the peoplewho were going and those who were to stay behind seemed mixed in aninextricable tangle on the decks. Then a bell rang, and gradually thegroups separated; those who were not going formed themselves into ablack mass on the pier; there was a great fluttering of handkerchiefs, aplunge of the screw, and the steamer was off.

  Lionel, who had been seeing to the baggage, now appeared, and tookImogen down to her stateroom, advising her to get out all her warmthings and make ready for a rough night.

  "There's quite a sea on outside," he remarked. "We're in for a rollingif not for a pitching."

  "Lion!" cried Imogen, indignantly. "Do you mean to say that you supposeI'm going to be sick,--I, a Devonshire girl born and bred, who havelived by the sea all my life? Never!"

  "Time will show," was the oracular response. "Get the rugs out, any way,and your brushes and combs and things, and advise Miss What-d'-you-call-herto do the same."

  "Miss What-d'-you-call-her" was Imogen's room-mate, a perfectly unknowngirl, who had been to her imagination one of the chief bug-bears of thevoyage. She was curled up on the sofa in a tumbled little heap when theyentered the stateroom, had evidently been crying, and did not look atall formidable, being no older than Imogen, very small and shy, a soft,dark-eyed appealing creature, half English, half Belgic by extraction,and going out, it appeared, to join a lover who for three years had beenin California making ready for her. He was to meet her in New York, witha clergyman in his pocket, so to speak, and as soon as the marriageceremony was performed, they were to set out for their ranch in the SanGabriel Valley, to raise grapes, dry raisins, and "live happily all thedays of their lives afterward," like the prince and princess of a fairytale.

  These confidences were not made immediately or all at once, butgradually, as the two girls became acquainted, and mutual sufferingendeared them to each other. For, in spite of Imogen's Devonshirebringing up, the English Channel proved too much for her, and she had toendure two pretty bad days before, promoted from gruel to dry toast, andfrom dry toast to beef-tea, she was able to be helped on deck, andseated, well wrapped up, in a reclining chair to inhale the cold, saltywind which was the best and only medicine for her particular kind ofailment.

  The chair next hers was occupied by a pretty, dark-eyed, and verylady-like woman, with whom Lionel had apparently made an acquaintance;for he said, as he tucked Imogen's rugs about her, "Here's my sister atlast, you see;" which off-hand introduction the lady acknowledged with apleasant smile, saying she was glad to see Miss Young able to be up.Her manner was so unaffected and cordial that Imogen's stiffness meltedunder its influence, and before she knew it they were talking quite likeold acquaintances.

  Imogen was struck by the sweet voice of the stranger, with its well-bredmodulations, and also by the good taste and perfection of all her littleappointments, from the down pillow at top of her chair to thefur-trimmed shoes on a pair of particularly pretty feet at the otherend. She set her down in her own mind as a London dame offashion,--perhaps a countess, or a Lady Something-or-other, who wasgoing out to see America.

  "Your brother tells me this is your first voyage," said the lady.

  "Yes. He has been out before, but none of us were with him. It's allperfectly strange to me"--with a sigh.

  "Why do you sigh? Don't you expect to like it?"

  "Why no, not _like it_ exactly. Of course I'm glad to be with Lionel andof use to him, but I didn't come away from home for pleasure."

  "Pleasure must come to you, then," said the lady, with a smile. "Andreally I don't see why it shouldn't. In the first place you are actingthe part of a good sister; and you know the adage about duty performedmaking rainbows in the soul. And then Colorado is a beautiful State,with the finest of mountain views, a wonderful climate, and such wildflowers as grow nowhere else. I have some friends living there who arequite infatuated about it. They say there is no place so delightful inthe world."

  "That is just the way with my brother. It's really absurd the way hetalks about it. You would think it was better than England!"

  "It is sure to be very different; but all the same, you will like it, Ithink."

  "I hope so"--doubtfully.

  Just then came an interruption in the shape of a tall girl of fifteen orsixteen, with a sweet, childish face who came running down the deckaccompanied by a maid, and seized the strange lady's hand.

  "Mamma," she began, "the first officer says that if you are willing hewill take me across to the bows to see the rainbows on the foam. May Igo? He says Anne can go too."

  "Yes, certainly, if Mr. Graves will take charge of you. But first speakto this young lady, who is the sister of Mr. Young, who was so kindabout playing ship-coil with you yesterday, and tell her you are gladshe is able to be on deck. Then you can go, Amy."

  Amy turned a pair of beautiful, long-lashed, gray eyes on Imogen.

  "I'm glad you're better, Miss Young. Mamma and I were sorry you were sosick," she said, with a frank politeness that was charming. "It must bevery disagreeable."

  "Haven't you been sick, then?" said Imogen, holding fast the little handthat was put in hers.

  "No, I'm never sick _now_. I was, though, the first time we came over,and I behaved _awfully_. Do you recollect, mamma?"

  "Only too well," said her mother, laughing. "You were like a caged bird,beating yourself against the bars in desperation."

  Amy lingered a moment, while a dimple played in her pink cheek as if shewere moved by some amusing remembrance.

  "Ah, there's Mr. Graves," she said. "I must go. I'll come back presentlyand tell you about the rainbows, mamma."

  "I suppose most of these people on board are Americans," said Imogenafter a little pause. "It's always easy to tell them, don't you think?"

  "Not always. Yes, I suppose a good many of them are--or call themselvesso."

  "What do you mean by 'call themselves so'? That girl is one, I am sure,"indicating a pretty, stylish young person, who was talking rather tooloudly for good taste with the ship's doctor.

  "Yes, I imagine she is."

  "A
nd those people over there," pointing to a large, red-bearded man wholay back in a sea-chair reading a novel, by the side of a fat wife whoread another, while their little boy raced up and down the deck quiteunheeded, and amused himself by pulling the rugs off the knees of thesicker passengers. "They are Americans, I know! Did you ever see suchcreatures? The idea of letting that child make a nuisance of himselflike that! No one but an American would allow it. I've always heard thatchildren in the States do exactly as they please, and the grown peoplenever interfere with them in the least."

  "General rules are dangerous things," said her neighbor, with an oddlittle smile. "Now, as it happens, I know all about those people. Theycall themselves Americans because they have lived in Buffalo for tenyears and are naturalized; but he was born in Scotland and she in Wales,and the child doesn't belong exactly to any country, for he happened tobe born at sea. You see you can't always tell."

  "Do you mean, then, that they are English, after all?" cried Imogen,disconcerted and surprised.

  "Oh, no. Every body is an American who has taken the oath of allegiance.Those Polish Jews over there are Americans, and that Italian couplealso, and the big party of Germans who are sitting between the boats.The Germans have a large shop in New York, and go out every year to buygoods and tell their relations how superior the United States are toBreslau. They are all Americans, though you would scarcely suppose it tolook at them. America is like a pudding,--plums from one part of theworld, and spice from another, and flour and sugar and flavoring fromsomewhere else, but all known by the name of pudding."

  "How very, very odd. Somehow I never thought of it before in that light.Are there no real Americans, then? Are they all foreigners who have beennaturalized?"

  "Oh, no. It is not so bad as that. There are a great many 'realAmericans.' I am one, for example."

  "You!" There was such a world of unfeigned surprise in Imogen's tonethat it was impossible for her new friend not to laugh.

  "I. Did you not know it? What did you take me for?"

  "Why, English of course, like myself. You are exactly like an Englishperson."

  "I suppose you mean it for a compliment; thank you, therefore. I likeEngland very much, so I don't mind being taken for an English woman."

  "Of course you don't," said Imogen, staring. "It's the height of anAmerican's ambition, I've always heard, to be thought English."

  "There you are mistaken. There are a few foolish people who feel so nodoubt, and all of us would be glad to copy what is best and nicest inEnglish ways and manners, but a really good American likes his owncountry best of all, and would rather seem to belong to it than anyother."

  "And I was thinking how different your daughter is from the Americangirls!" said Imogen, continuing her own train of thought; "and how hermanners were so pretty, and did such credit to _us_, and would surprisepeople over there! How very odd. I shall never get to understand theAmericans. They're so different from each other as well as from us.There were some ladies from New York at Bideford the other day,--a Mrs.Page and a Comtesse de Something-or-other, her daughter, and a MissOpdyke from New York. _She_ was very pretty and really quite nice,though rather queer, but all three were as unlike each other as theycould be. Do you know them in America?"

  "Not Miss Opdyke; but I have met Mrs. Page once in Europe a good whilesince. It was before her daughter was married. She is a relative of mysister-in-law, Mrs. Worthington."

  "Do you mean the Mrs. Worthington whose husband is in the navy? Why,that's Mrs. Geoffrey Templestowe's sister!"

  "Do you know Clover Templestowe, then?" said the lady, surprised in herturn. "That is really curious. Was it in England that you met?"

  "Yes, and we are on our way to her neighborhood now. My brother hasbought a share in Geoff's business, and we are going to live near themat High Valley."

  "I do call this an extraordinary coincidence. Amy, come here and listen.This young lady is on her way to Colorado, to live close to Aunt Clover;what do you think of that for a surprise? I don't wonder that you openyour eyes so wide. Isn't it just like a story-book that she should havecome and sat down in the next chair to ours?"

  "It's so funny that I can't believe it, till I take time to think," saidAmy, perching herself on the arm of her mother's seat. "Just think,you'll see Elsie and her baby, and Aunt Clover's baby, and Uncle Geoffand Phil, and all of them. It's the beautifulest place out there thatyou ever saw. There are whole droves of horses, and you ride all thewhile, and when you're not riding you can pick flowers and play with thebabies. Oh, I wish I were going with you; it would be such fun!"

  "But aren't you coming?" said Imogen, much taken by the frankness of thelittle American maid. "Coax mamma to fetch you out this summer, andcome and make me a visit. We're going to have a little cabin of our own,and I'd be delighted to have you. Is it far from where you live?"

  "Well, it's what you would call 'a goodish bit' in England," repliedMrs. Ashe,--"two thousand miles or so, nearly three days' journey. Amywould be charmed to come, I am sure, but I am afraid the distance willstand in her way. One doesn't 'step out' to Colorado every summer, butperhaps we may be there some day, and then we shall certainly hope tosee you."

  This encounter with Mrs. Ashe, who was, in a way, part of the familywith whom Imogen expected to be most intimately associated in America,made the remainder of the voyage very pleasant. They sat together forhours every day, talking, and reading, and gradually Imogen waked up tothe fact that American life and society was a much more complex and lesseasily understood affair than she had imagined.

  The weather was favorable when the first rough days were past, and afterthey rounded the curve of the wide sea hemisphere and began to near theAmerican coast it became beautiful, with high-arching skies and verybright sunsets. Accustomed to the low-hung grays and struggling sunbeamsof southern England, Imogen could not get used to these novelties. Hersurprise over the dazzle of the day and the clear, vivid blue of theheavens was a continual amusement and joy to Mrs. Ashe, who took apatriotic pride in her own climate, and, as it were, made herselfresponsible for it.

  Then came the eventful morning, when, rousing to the first glow of dawn,they found the screw motionless, and the steamer lying off a greenisland, with a big barrack-building on it, over which waved the Americanflag. The health officer made his visit, and before long they weresteaming up the wide bay of New York, between green, flowery shores,under the colossal Liberty, whose outstretched arm seemed to point tothe dim rich mass of roofs and towers and spires of the city which laybeyond. Then they neared the landing-stage, where a black mass of peoplestood waiting them, and Amy gave a cry of delight as she saw agold-banded cap among them, and recognized her Uncle Ned.

  The little Anglo-Belgian had been more or less ill all the way over, andlooked pale and wan, though still very pretty, as she stood with therest, gazing at the crowd of faces, all of whose eyes were turned towardthe steamer. Imogen, who had helped her to dress, remained protectinglyby her side.

  "What shall you do if he doesn't happen to be there?" she asked, smittenwith a sudden fear. "Something might detain him, you know."

  "I--I--am not sure," turning pale. "Oh, yes, I am," rallying. "He haveaunt in Howbokken. I go there and wait. But he not fail; he will behere." Then her eyes suddenly lit up, and she exclaimed with a littleshriek of joy, "He _are_ here! That is he standing by the big timber. MyKarl! my Karl! He are here!"

  There indeed he was, foremost in the throng, a tall, brown, handsomefellow, with a nice, strong face, and such a look of love andexpectation in his eyes that prosaic Imogen suddenly felt that it mightbe worth while, after all, to cross half the world to meet a look and ahusband like that,--a fact which she had disbelieved till now, demurringalso in her private mind as to the propriety of such a thing. It waspretty to see the tender happiness in the girl's face, and the answeringexpression of her lover's. It seemed to put poetry and pathos into anotherwise commonplace scene. The gang-plank was lowered, a crowd ofpeople surged ashore, to be met by a correspond
ing surge from theon-lookers, and in the midst of it Lieutenant Worthington leaped aboardand hastened to where his sister stood waiting him.

  "You're coming up to Newport with me at five-thirty," were his firstwords. "Katy's all ready, and means to sit up till the boat gets in attwo-thirty, keeping a little supper hot and hot for you. The TorpedoStation is in its glory just now, and there's going to be a greatexplosion on Thursday, which Amy will enjoy."

  "How lovely!" cried Amy, clinging to her uncle's arm. "I loveexplosions. Why didn't Tanta come too?--I'm in such a hurry to see her."

  Then Mr. Worthington asked to be introduced to Imogen and Lionel, andexplained that acting on a request from Geoffrey Templestowe, he hadtaken rooms for them at a hotel, and secured their tickets and sleepingsections in the "limited" train for the next day.

  "And I told them to save two seats for Rip Van Winkle to-night till yougot there," he added. "If you're not too tired I advise you to go.Jefferson is an experience which you ought not to miss, and you maynever have another chance."

  "How awfully kind your brother is," said the surprised Imogen to Mrs.Ashe; "all this trouble, and he never saw either of us before! It's verygood of him."

  "Oh, that's nothing. That's the way American men do. They _are_ perfectdears, there's no doubt as to that, and they don't consider anything atrouble which helps along a friend or a friend's friend. It's a matterof course over here."

  "Well, I don't consider it a matter of course at all. I think itextraordinary, and it was so very nice in Geoff to send word to Lion."

  Then they parted. Meanwhile the little room-mate had been having aprivate conference with her "young man." She now joined Imogen.

  "Karl says we shall be married directly, in a church, in half an hour,"she told her. "And oh, won't you and Mr. Young come to be with us? It isso sad not to have one friend when one is married."

  It was impossible to refuse this request; so it happened that the veryfirst thing Imogen did in America was to attend a wedding. It took placein an old church, pretty far down town; and she always afterward carriedin her mind the picture of it, dim and sombre in coloring, with theafternoon sun pouring in through a rich rose window and throwing blueand red reflections on the little group of five at the altar, while fromoutside came the din of wheels and the unceasing tread of busy feet. Theservice was soon over, the signatures were made, and the little bridewent down the chancel on her husband's arm, with her face appropriatelyturned to the west, and with such a look of secure and unfearinghappiness upon it as was good to see. It was an unusual and typicalscene with which to begin life in a new country, and Imogen liked tothink afterward that she had been there.

  Then followed a long drive up town over rough ill-laid pavements,through dirty streets, varied by dirtier streets, and farther up, bythose that were less dirty. Imogen had never seen anything so shabby asthe poorest of the buildings that they passed, and certainly neveranything quite so fine as the best of them. Squalor and splendor jostledeach other side by side; everywhere there was the same endless throng ofhurrying people, and everywhere the same abundance of flowers for sale,in pots, in baskets, in bunches, making the whole air of the streetssweet. Then they came to the hotel, and were shown to their rooms,--highup, airy, and nicely furnished, though Imogen was at first disposed tocavil at the absence of bed-curtains.

  "It looks so bare," she complained. "At home such a thing would beconsidered very odd, very odd indeed. Fancy a bed without curtains!"

  "After you've spent one hot night in America you'll be glad enough tofancy it," replied her brother. "Stuffy old things. It's only in coldweather that one could endure them over here."

  The first few hours on shore after a voyage have a delightfulness alltheir own. It is so pleasant to bathe and dress without having to holdon and guard against lurches and tips. Imogen went about her toiletwell-pleased; and her pleasure was presently increased when she found onher dressing-table a beautiful bunch of summer roses, with "Mrs.Geoffrey Templestowe's love and welcome" on a card lying beside it.Thoughtful Clover had written to Ned Worthington to see to this littleattention, and the pleasure it gave went even farther than she hadhoped.

  "I declare," said Imogen, sitting down with the flowers before her, "Inever knew anybody so kind as they all are. I don't feel half sohome-sick as I expected. I must write mamma about these roses. Of courseMrs. Geoff does it for Isabel's sake; but all the same it is awfullynice of her, and I shall try not to forget it."

  Then, when, after finishing her dressing, she drew the blinds up andlooked from the windows, she gave a cry of sheer pleasure, for therebeneath was spread out a beautiful wide distance of Park with featherytrees and belts of shrubs, behind which the sun was making ready to setin a crimson sky. There was a balcony outside the windows, and Imogenpulled a chair out on it to enjoy the view. Carriages were rolling in atthe Park gates, looking exactly like the equipages one sees in London,with fat coachmen, glossy horses, and jingling silvered harness. Girlsand young men were cantering along the bridle-paths, and throngs ofwell-dressed people filled the walks. Beyond was a fairy lake, wheregondolas shot to and fro; a band was playing; from still farther awaycame a peal of chimes from a church tower.

  "And this is New York!" thought Imogen. Then her thoughts reverted toMiss Opdyke and her tale of the Tammany Indians, and she flushed withsudden vexation.

  "What an idiot she must have considered me!" she reflected.

  But her insular prejudices revived in full force as a knock was heard,and a colored boy, entering with a tinkling pitcher, inquired, "Did youring for ice-water, lady?"

  "No!" said Imogen sharply; "I never drink iced water. I rang for hotwater, but I got it more than an hour ago."

  "Beg pardon, lady."

  "Why on earth does he call me 'lady'?" she murmured--"so tiresome andvulgar!"

  Then Lionel came for her, and they went down to dinner,--a wonderfulrepast, with soups and fishes and vegetables quite unknown to her; abewildering succession of meats and entrees, strawberries such as shehad supposed did not grow outside of England, raspberries and currantssuch as England never knew, and wonderful blackberries, of great sizeand sweetness, bursting with purple juice. There were ices too, servedin the shapes of apples, pears, and stalks of asparagus, which dazzledher country eyes not a little, while the whole was a terror andastonishment to her thrifty English mind.

  "Lionel, don't keep on ordering things so," she protested. "We areeating our heads off as it is, I am sure."

  "My dear young friend, you are come to the Land of Fat Things," hereplied. "Dinner costs just the same, once you sit down to it, whetheryou have a biscuit and a glass of water, or all these things."

  "I call it a sinful waste, then," she retorted. "But all the same, sinceit is so, I'll take another ice."

  "'First endure, then pity, then embrace,'" quoted her brother. "That'sright, Moggy; pitch in, spoil the Egyptians. It doesn't hurt them, andit will do you lots of good."

  From the dinner-table they went straight to the theatre, having decidedto follow Lieut. Worthington's advice and see "Rip Van Winkle." And thenthey straightway fell under the spell of a magician who has enchantedmany thousands before them, and for the space of two hours forgotthemselves, their hopes and fears and expectations, while they followedthe fortunes of the idle, lovable, unpractical Rip, up the mountain tohis sleep of years, and down again, white-haired and tottering, to findhimself forgotten by his kin and a stranger in his own home. Peopleabout them were weeping on relays of pocket-handkerchiefs, hanging themup one by one as they became soaked, and beginning on others. Imogen hadbut one handkerchief, but she cried with that till she had to borrowLionel's; and he, though he professed to be very stoical, could notquite command his voice as he tried to chaff her in a whisper on heremotions, and begged her to "dry up" and remember that it was only aplay after all, and that presently Jefferson would discard his whitehair and wrinkles, go home to a good supper, and make a jolly end to theevening.

  It was almost too exciting f
or a first night on shore, and if Imogen hadnot been so tired, and if her uncurtained bed had not proved sodeliciously comfortable, she would scarcely have slept as she did tillhalf-past seven the next morning, so that they had to scramble throughbreakfast not to lose their train. Once started in the "Limited," with alibrary and a lady's-maid, a bath and a bed at her disposal, and justbeyond a daintily appointed dinner-table adorned with freshflowers,--all at forty miles an hour,--she had leisure to review hersituation and be astonished. Bustling cities shot past them,--or seemedto shoot,--beautifully kept country-seats, shabby suburbs where goatsand pigs mounted guard over shanties and cabbage-beds, great tracts ofwild forest, factory towns black with smoke, rivers winding between bluehill ridges, prairie-like expanses so overgrown with wild-flowers thatthey looked all pink or all blue,--everything by turns and nothing long.It seemed the sequence of the unexpected, a succession of rapidlychanging surprises, for which it was impossible to prepare beforehand.

  "I shall never learn to understand it," thought poor perplexed Imogen.