CHAPTER X.
THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD.
Rose was wonderfully better. Every day in the clear, bracing air ofBywood seemed to bring fresh vigor to her frame, fresh color to hercheeks. She began to take regular walks, instead of strolling a littleway, leaning on her friend's stronger arm. Together the girls exploredall the pleasant places of the neighborhood, which were many; hunted forrare ferns, with tin plant-boxes hanging from their belts, or stalkedthe lonely cardinal-flower, as it nodded over some woodland brook. Oftenthey took the little boat, and made long expeditions down the pleasantriver,--Hildegarde rowing, Rose couched at her ease in the stern. Oncethey came to the mouth of a stream which they pleased themselves byimagining to be unknown to mankind. Dipping the oars gently, Hildegardedrew the boat on and on, between high, dark banks of hemlock and pineand white birch. Here were cardinal-flowers, more than they had everseen before, rank behind rank, all crowding down to the water's edge tosee their beauty mirrored in the clear, dark stream. They were toobeautiful to pick. But Hildegarde took just one, as a memento, and evenfor that one the spirit of the enchanted place seemed to be angered; forthere was a flash of white barred wings, a loud shrill cry, and theycaught the gleam of two fierce black eyes, as something whirred pastthem across the stream, and vanished in the woods beyond.
"Oh! what was it?" cried Hildegarde. "Have we done a dreadful thing?"
"Only a kingfisher!" said Rose, laughing. "But I don't believe we oughtto have picked his flower. This is certainly a fairy place! Move on, orhe may cast a spell over us, and we shall turn into two black stones."
One day, however, they had a stranger adventure than that of the HalcyonStream, as they named the mysterious brook. They had been walking in thewoods; and Rose, being tired, had stopped to rest, while Hildegardepursued a "yellow swallow-tail" among the trees. Rose establishedherself on the trunk of a fallen tree, whose upturned roots made a mostcomfortable armchair, all tapestried with emerald moss. She looked abouther with great content; counted the different kinds of moss growingwithin immediate reach, and found six; tried to decide which was theprettiest, and finding this impossible, gave it up, and fell to watchingthe play of the sunshine as it came twinkling through the branches ofoak and pine. Green and gold!--those were the colors the fairy princesalways wore, she thought. It was the most perfect combination in theworld; and she hummed a verse of one of Hildegarde's ballads:--
"Gold and green, gold and green, She was the lass that was born a queen. Velvet sleeves to her grass-green gown, And clinks o' gold in her hair so brown."
Presently the girl noticed that in one place the trees were thinner, andthat the light came strongly through, as from an open space beyond. Didthe wood end here, then? She rose, and parting the leaves, movedforward, till all of a sudden she stopped short, in amazement. Forsomething strange was before her. In an open green space, with theforest all about it, stood a house,--not a deserted house, nor atumbledown log-hut, such as one often sees in Maine, but a trim, prettycottage, painted dark red, with a vine-covered piazza, and a miniaturelawn, smooth and green, sloping down to a fringe of willows, beyondwhich was heard the murmur of an unseen brook. The shutters were closed,and there was no sign of life about the place, yet all was in perfectorder; all looked fresh and well cared for, as if the occupants had gonefor a walk or drive, and might return at any moment. A drive? Hark! wasnot that the sound of wheels, even at this moment, on the neatgravel-path? Rose drew back instinctively, letting the branches close infront of her. Yet, she thought, there could be no harm in her peepingjust for a moment, to see who these forest-dwellers might be. A fairyprince? a queenly maiden in gold and green? Laughing at her ownthoughts, she leaned forward to peep through the leafy screen. What washer astonishment when round the corner came the familiar head of Dr.Abernethy, with the carryall behind him, Jeremiah driving, and MissWealthy sitting on the back seat! Rose could not believe her eyes atfirst, and thought she must be asleep on the tree-trunk, and dreaming itall. Her second thought was, why should not Miss Bond know the people ofthe house? They were her neighbors; she had come to make a friendlycall. There was nothing strange about it. No! but it _was_ strange tosee the old lady, after mounting the steps slowly, draw a key from herpocket, deliberately open the door, and enter the house, closing thedoor after her. Jeremiah drove slowly round to the back of the house. Ina few moments the shutters of the lower rooms were flung back. MissWealthy stood at the window for a few minutes, gazing out thoughtfully;then she disappeared.
Rose was beginning to feel very guilty, as if she had seen what sheought not to see. A sense of sadness, of mystery, weighed heavily on hersensitive spirit. Very quietly she stole back to her tree-trunk, and waspresently joined by Hildegarde, flushed and radiant, with the butterflysafe in her plant-box, a quick and merciful pinch having converted himinto a "specimen" before he fairly knew that he was caught. Rose toldher tale, and Hildegarde wondered, and in her turn went to look at themysterious house.
"How _very_ strange!" she said, returning. "I hardly know why it is sostrange, for of course there might be all kinds of things to account forit. It may be the house of some one who has gone away and asked CousinWealthy to come and look at it occasionally. The people _may_ be in it,and like to have the blinds all shut. And yet--yet, I don't believe itis so. I feel strange!"
"Come away!" said Rose, rising. "Come home; it is a secret, and not oursecret."
And home they went, very silent, and forgetting to look for maiden-hair,which they had come specially to seek.
But girls are girls; and Hildegarde and Rose could not keep theirthoughts from dwelling on the house in the wood. After someconsultation, they decided that there would be no harm in asking Marthaabout it. If she put them off, or seemed unwilling to speak, then theywould try to forget what they had seen, and keep away from that part ofthe woods; if not--
So it happened that the next day, while Miss Wealthy was taking herafter-dinner nap, the two girls presented themselves at the door ofMartha's little sewing-room, where she sat with her sleeves rolled up,hemming pillow-cases. It was a sunny little room, with a pleasant smellof pennyroyal about it. There was a little mahogany table that mighthave done duty as a looking-glass, and indeed did reflect the wonderfulbouquet of wax flowers that adorned it; a hair-cloth rocking-chair, anda comfortable wooden one with a delightful creak, without which Marthawould not have felt at home. On the walls were some bright prints, and aframed temperance pledge (Martha had never tasted anything stronger thanshrub, and considered that rather a dangerous stimulant); and theDeathbed of Lincoln, with a wooden Washington diving out of stony cloudsto receive the departing spirit.
"May we come in, Martha?" asked Hildegarde. "We have brought our work,and we want to ask you about something."
"Come in, and welcome!" responded Martha. "Glad to see you,--if you canmake yourselves comfortable, that is. I'll get another chair from--"
"No, indeed, you will not!" said Hildegarde. "Rose shall sit in thisrocking-chair, and I will take the window-seat, which is better thananything else; so, there we are, all settled! Now, Martha--" Shehesitated a moment, and Rose shrank back and made a little deprecatorymovement with her hand; but Hildegarde was not to be stopped. "Martha,we have seen the house in the wood. We just happened on it by chance,and we saw--we saw Cousin Wealthy go in. And we want to know if you cantell us about it, or if Cousin Wealthy would not like us to be told. Youwill know, of course."
She paused. A shadow had crossed Martha's cheerful, wise face; and shesighed and stitched away in silence at her pillow-case for some minutes,while the girls waited with outward patience. At last, "I don't know whyI shouldn't tell you, young ladies," she said slowly. "It's no harm,and no secret; only, of course, you wouldn't speak of it to her, poordear!"
She was silent again, collecting her words; for she was slow of speech,this good Martha. "That house," she said at last, "belongs to Miss Bond.It was built just fifty years ago by the young man she was going tomarry." Hil
degarde drew in her breath quickly, with a low cry ofsurprise, but made no further interruption.
"He was a fine young gentleman, I've been told by all as had seen him;tall and handsome, with a kind of foreign way with him, very taking. Hewas brought up in France, and almost as soon as he came out here (hispeople were from Castine, and had French blood) he met Miss Bond, andthey fell in love with each other at sight, as they say. She lived herein this same house with her father (her mother was dead), and she wasas sweet as a June rose, and a picture to look at. Ah! dear me, dear me!Poor lamb! I never saw her then. I was a baby, as you may say; leastwisea child of three or four.
"Old Mary told me all about it when first I came,--old Mary washousekeeper here forty years, and died ten year ago. Well, she used tosay it was a picture to see Miss Wealthy when she was expecting Mr. LaRose (Victor La Rose was his name). She would put on a white gown, witha bunch of pansies in the front of it; they were his favorite flowers,Mary said, and he used to call her his Pansy, which means something inFrench, I don't rightly know what; and then she would come out on thelawn, and look and look down river. Most times he came up in hissail-boat,--he loved the water, and was more at home on it than on land,as you may say. And when she saw the white boat coming round the bend,she would flush all up, old Mary said, like one of them damask roses inyour belt, Miss Hilda; and her eyes would shine and sparkle, and she'dclap her hands like a child, and run down to the wharf to meet him.Standing there, with her lovely hair blowing about in the wind, shewould look more like a spirit, Mary would say, than a mortal person.Then when the boat touched the wharf, she would hold out her littlehands to help him up; and he, so strong and tall, was glad to be helped,just to touch her hand. And so they would come up to the house together,holding of hands, like two happy children. And full of play they was,tossing flowers about and singing and laughing, all for the joy of beingtogether, as you may say; and she always with a pansy for hisbutton-hole the first thing; and he looking down so proud and lovingwhile she fastened it in. And most times he'd bring her something,--abox of chocolate, or a new book, or whatever it was,--but old Marythought she was best pleased when he came with nothing but himself. Andboth of them that loving and care-taking to the old gentleman, as onedon't often see in young folks courting; making him sit with them on thepiazza after tea, and the young man telling all he'd seen and done sincethe last time; and then she would take her guitar and sing the sweetest,old Mary said, that ever was sung out of heaven. Then by and by old Mr.Bond would go away in to his book, and they would sit and talk, or walkin the moonlight, or perhaps go out on the water. She was a great handfor the water, Mary said; and never's been on it since that time. Notthat it's to wonder at, to my mind. Ah, dear me!
"Well, my dears, they was to be married in the early fall, as it mightbe September. He had built that pretty house, so as she needn't be farfrom her father, who was getting on in years, and she his only child. Hefurnished it beautiful, every room like a best parlor,--carpets andsofys and lace curt'ins,--there was nothing too good. But her own roomwas all pansies,--everything made to order, with that pattern andnothing else. It's a sight to see to-day, fifty years since 't was allfresh and new.
"One day--my dear young ladies, the ways of the Lord are very strange bytimes, but we must truly think that they _are_ his ways, and so betterthan ours,--one day Miss Wealthy was looking for her sweetheart at theusual time of his coming, about three o'clock in the afternoon. Themorning had been fine, but the weather seemed to be coming up bad, Marythought; and old Mr. Bond thought so, too, for he came out on the piazzawhere Mary was sorting out garden-herbs, and said, 'Daughter, I thinkVictor will drive to-day. There is a squall coming up; it isn't a goodday for the water.'
"And it wasn't, Mary said; for an ugly black cloud was coming over, andunder it the sky looked green and angry.
"But Miss Wealthy only laughed, and shook her yellow curls back,--likecurling sunbeams, Mary said they was, and said, 'Victor doesn't mindsqualls, Father dear. He has been in gales and hurricanes and cyclones,and do you think he will stop for a river flaw? See! there is the boatnow, coming round the bend.' And there, sure enough, came the whitesailboat, flying along as if she was alive, old Mary said. Miss Wealthyran out on the lawn and waved her handkerchief, and they saw the youngman stand up in the boat and wave his in return. And then--oh, dear! oh,dear me!--Mary said, it seemed as if something black came rushingacross the water and struck the boat like a hand; and down she went, andin a moment there was nothing to see, only the water all black andhissing, and the wind tearing the tree-tops."
"Oh! but he could swim!" cried Hildegarde, pale and breathless.
"He was a noble swimmer, my dear!" said Martha, sadly. "But it came toosudden, you see. He had turned to look at his sweetheart, poor younggentleman, and wave to her, and in that moment it came. He hadn't timeto clear himself, and was tangled in the ropes, and held down by thesail. Oh, don't ask me any more! But he was drowned, that is all of it.Death needs only a moment, and has that moment always ready. Eh, dear!My poor, sweet lady!"
There was a pause; for Rose was weeping, and Hildegarde could not speak,though her eyes were dry and shining.
Presently Martha continued: "The poor dear fell back into her father'sarms, and he and Mary carried her into the house; and then came a long,sad time. For days and days they couldn't make her believe but that hewas saved, for she knew he was a fine swimmer; but at last, when all wasover, and the body found and buried, they brought her a little box thatthey found in his pocket, all soaked with water,--oh, dear!--and in itwas that pin,--the stone pansy, as she always wears, and will till theday she dies. Then she knew, and she lay back in her bed, and theythought she would never leave it. But folks don't often die that way,Miss Hilda and Miss Rose. Trouble is for us to live through, not to dieby; and she got well, and comforted her father, and by and by shelearned how to smile again, though that was not for a long time. Thepoor gentleman had made a will, giving the new house to her, and all hehad; for he had no near kin living. Mr. Bond wanted her to sell it; but,oh! she wouldn't hear to it. All these years--fifty long years, MissHilda!--she has kept that house in apple-pie order. Once a month I goover, as old Mary did before me, and sweep it from top to bottom, andwash the windows. And three times a week she--Miss Bond--goes overherself, as you saw her to-day, and sits an hour or so, and puts freshpansies in the vases; and Jeremiah keeps the lawn mowed, odd times, andeverything in good shape. It's a strange fancy, to my idea; but there!it's her pleasure. In winter, when she can't go, of course, for thesnow, she is always low-spirited, poor lady! I was _so_ glad Mrs.Grahame asked her to go to New York last winter!
"And now, young ladies," said Martha, gathering up her pillow-cases, "Ishould be in my kitchen, seeing about supper. That is all the story ofthe house in the wood. And you'll not let it make you too sad, seeing 'twas the Lord's doing; and to look at her now, you'd never think but whather life had been of her own choosing, and she couldn't have had anyother."
Very quietly and sadly the girls went to their rooms, and sat hand inhand, and talked in whispers of what they had heard. The brightness ofthe day seemed gone; they could hardly bear the pain of sympathy, oftender pity, that filled their young hearts. They could not understandhow there could ever be rallying from such a blow. They knew nothing ofhow long passing years turn bitter to sweet, and build a lovely "Houseof Rest" over what was once a black gulf of anguish and horror.
Miss Wealthy's cheerful face, when they went down to tea, struck themwith a shock; they had almost expected to find it pale andtear-stained, and could hardly command their usual voices in speaking toher. The good lady was quite distressed. "My dear Rose," she said, "youlook very pale and tired. I am quite sure you must have walked too farto-day. You would better go to bed very early, my dear, and Martha shallgive you a hop pillow. Very soothing a hop pillow is, when one is tired.And, Hilda, you are not in your usual spirits. I trust you are nothomesick, my child! You have not touched your favorite cream-cheese."
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p; Both girls reassured her, feeling rather ashamed of themselves; andafter tea Hildegarde read "Bleak House" aloud, and then they had a gameof casino, and the evening passed off quite cheerfully.