Anne: A Novel

  CHAPTER II.

  "Heap on more wood! the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still. The damsel donned her kirtle sheen; The hall was dressed with holly green; Forth to the wood did merry-men go, To gather in the mistletoe."--WALTER SCOTT.

  "Can you make out what the child means?" said Douglas, as his elderdaughter entered the study early on Christmas morning to renew the fireand set the apartment in order for the day. As he spoke he held Tita'sepistle hopelessly before him, and scanned the zig-zag lines.

  "She wants some ribbons for her hair," said Anne, making out the wordsover his shoulder. "Poor little thing! she is so proud of her hair, andall the other girls have bright ribbons. But I can not make ribbons,"she added, regretfully, as though she found herself wanting in a needfulaccomplishment. "Think of her faith in Santa Klaus, old as she is, andher writing to ask him! But there is ribbon in the house, after all,"she added, suddenly, her face brightening. "Miss Lois gave me some lastmonth; I had forgotten it. That will be the very thing for Tita; she hasnot even seen it."

  (But has she not, thou unsuspicious elder sister?)

  "Do not rob yourself, child," said the father, wearily casting his eyesover the slip of paper again. "What spelling! The English is bad, butthe French worse."

  "That is because she has no French teacher, papa; and you know I do notallow her to speak the island _patois_, lest it should corrupt thelittle she knows."

  "But she does speak it; she always talks _patois_ when she is alone withme."

  "Does she?" said Anne, in astonishment. "I had no idea of that. But_you_ might correct her, papa."

  "I can never correct her in any way," replied Douglas, gloomily; andthen Anne, seeing that he was on the threshold of one of his dark moods,lighted his pipe, stirred the fire into a cheery blaze, and went out toget a cup of coffee for him. For the Irish soldier's wife was already atwork in the kitchen, having been to mass in the cold gray dawn, down onher two knees on the hard floor, repentant for all her sins, andrefulgently content in the absolution which wiped out the old score (andleft place for a new one). After taking in the coffee, Anne ran up toher own room, brought down the ribbon, and placed it in Tita's stocking;she then made up the fire with light-wood, and set about decorating thewalls with wreaths of evergreen as the patter of the little boys' feetwas heard on the old stairway. The breakfast table was noisy thatmorning. Tita had inspected her ribbons demurely, and wondered how SantaKlaus knew her favorite colors so well. Anne glanced toward her father,and smiled; but the father's face showed doubt, and did not respond.While they were still at the table the door opened, and a tall figureentered, muffled in furs. "Miss Lois!" cried the boys. "Hurrah! See ourpresents, Miss Lois." They danced round her while she removed herwrappings, and kept up such a noise that no one could speak. Miss Lois,viewed without her cloak and hood, was a tall, angular woman, pastmiddle age, with sharp features, thin brown hair tinged with gray, andpale blue eyes shielded by spectacles. She kissed Anne first withevident affection, and afterward the children with business-likepromptitude; then she shook hands with William Douglas. "I wish you ahappy Christmas, doctor," she said.

  "Thank you, Lois," said Douglas, holding her hand in his an instant ortwo longer than usual.

  A faint color rose in Miss Lois's cheeks. When she was young she had oneof those exquisitely delicate complexions which seem to belong to someparts of New England; even now color would rise unexpectedly in hercheeks, much to her annoyance: she wondered why wrinkles did not keep itdown. But New England knows her own. The creamy skins of the South, withtheir brown shadows under the eyes, the rich colors of the West, eventhe calm white complexions that are bred and long retained in cities,all fade before this faint healthy bloom on old New England's cheeks,like winter-apples.

  Miss Lois inspected the boys' presents with exact attention, and addedsome gifts of her own, which filled the room with a more jubilant uproarthan before. Tita, in the mean while, remained quietly seated at thetable, eating her breakfast; she took very small mouthfuls, and neverhurried herself. She said she liked to taste things, and that onlysnapping dogs, like the boys, for instance, gulped their food in a mass.

  "I gave her the ribbons; do not say anything," whispered Anne, in MissLois's ear, as she saw the spectacled eyes turning toward Tita's corner.Miss Lois frowned, and put back into her pocket a small parcel she wastaking out. She had forgiven Dr. Douglas the existence of the boys, butshe never could forgive the existence of Tita.

  Once Anne had asked about Angelique. "I was but a child when she died,Miss Lois," said she, "so my recollection of her may not be accurate;but I know that I thought her very beautiful. Does Tita look like her?"

  "Angelique Lafontaine was beautiful--in her way," replied Miss Lois. "Ido not say that I admire that way, mind you."

  "And Tita?"

  "Tita is hideous."

  "Oh, Miss Lois!"

  "She is, child. She is dwarfish, black, and sly."

  "I do not think she is sly," replied Anne, with heat. "And although sheis dark and small, still, sometimes--"

  "That, for your beauty of 'sometimes!'" said Miss Lois, snapping herfingers. "Give me a girl who is pretty in the morning as well as bycandle-light, one who has a nice, white, well-born, down-East face, andnone of your Western-border mongrelosities!"

  But this last phrase she uttered under her breath. She was ever mindfulof Anne's tender love for her father, and the severity with which sheherself, as a contemporary, had judged him was never revealed to thechild.

  At half past ten the Douglas family were all in their places in thelittle fort chapel. It was a bright but bitterly cold day, and themembers of the small congregation came enveloped in shaggy furs likebears, shedding their skins at the door, where they lay in a pile nearthe stove, ready for the return homeward. The military trappings of theofficers brightened the upper benches, the uniforms of the commonsoldiers filled the space behind; on the side benches sat the fewProtestants of the village, denominational prejudices unknown orforgotten in this far-away spot in the wilderness. The chaplain, theReverend James Gaston--a man who lived in peace with all the world, withPere Michaux, the Catholic priest, and William Douglas, the deist--gazedround upon his flock with a benignant air, which brightened intoaffection as Anne's voice took up the song of the angels, singing, amidthe ice and snow of a new world, the strain the shepherds heard on theplains of Palestine.

  "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will toward men,"sang Anne, with all her young heart. And Miss Lois, sitting with foldedhands, and head held stiffly erect, saw her wreath in the place of honorover the altar, and was touched first with pride and then with a slightfeeling of awe. She did not believe that one part of the church was moresacred than another--she could not; but being a High-Church Episcopaliannow, she said to herself that she ought to; she even had appallingvisions of herself, sometimes, going as far as Rome. But the old spiritof Calvinism was still on the ground, ready for many a wrestling matchyet; and stronger than all else were the old associations connected withthe square white meeting-house of her youth, which held their placeundisturbed down below all these upper currents of a new faith. WilliamDouglas was also a New-Englander, brought up strictly in the creed ofhis fathers; but as Miss Lois's change of creed was owing to a change ofposition, as some Northern birds turn their snow-color to a darker huewhen taken away from arctic regions, so his was one purely of mind,owing to nothing but the processes of thought within him. He had driftedaway from all creeds, save in one article: he believed in a Creator. Tothis great Creator's praise, and in worship of Him, he now poured forthhis harmonies, the purest homage he could offer, "unless," he thought,"Anne is a living homage as she stands here beside me. But no, she is asoul by herself; she has her own life to live, her own worship to offer;I must not call her mine. That she is my daughter is naught to me save agreat blessing. I can love her with a human father's love, and thank Godfor her affection. But that is all."
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  So he played his sweetest music, and Miss Lois fervently prayed, andmade no mistake in the order of her prayers. She liked to have a vocalpart in the service. It was a pleasure to herself to hear her own voicelifted up, even as a miserable sinner; for at home in the old whitemeeting-house all expression had been denied to her, the small outletof the Psalms being of little avail to a person who could not sing. Thisdumbness stifled her, and she had often said to herself that the menwould never have endured it either if they had not had theprayer-meetings as a safety-valve. The three boys were penned in at MissLois's side, within reach of her tapping finger. They had decided toattend service on account of the evergreens and Anne's singing, althoughthey, as well as Tita, belonged in reality to the flock of FatherMichaux. Anne never interfered with this division of the family; sheconsidered it the one tie which bound the children to the memory oftheir mother; but Miss Lois shook her head over it, and sighedominously. The boys were, in fact, three little heathen; but Tita was adevout Roman Catholic, and observed all the feast and fast days of theChurch, to the not infrequent disturbance of the young mistress of thehousehold, to whom a feast-day was oftentimes an occasion bristling withdifficulty. But to-day, in honor of Christmas, the usual frugal dinnerhad been made a banquet indeed, by the united efforts of Anne and MissLois; and when they took their seats at the table which stood in thesitting-room, all felt that it held an abundance fit even for the oldfur-trading days, Miss Lois herself having finally succumbed to thatisland standard of comparison. After the dinner was over, while theywere sitting round the fire sipping coffee--the ambrosia of the Northerngods, who find some difficulty in keeping themselves warm--a tap at thedoor was heard, and a tall youth entered, a youth who was a vividpersonification of early manhood in its brightest form. The warm air wasstirred by the little rush of cold that came in with him, and the dreamyand drowsy eyes round the fire awoke as they rested upon him.

  "The world _is_ alive, then, outside, after all," said Miss Lois,briskly straightening herself in her chair, and taking out her knitting."How do you do, Erastus?"

  But her greeting was drowned by the noise of the boys, who had beenasleep together on the rug in a tangled knot, like three young bears,but now, broadly awake again, were jumping round the new-comer,displaying their gifts and demanding admiration. Disentangling himselffrom them with a skill which showed a long experience in their modes oftwisting, the young man made his way up to Anne, and, with a smile andbow to Dr. Douglas and Miss Lois, sat down by her side.

  "You were not at church this morning," said the girl, looking at himrather gravely, but giving him her hand.

  "No, I was not; but a merry Christmas all the same, Annet," answered theyouth, throwing back his golden head with careless grace. At this momentTita came forward from her furry corner, where she had been lying withher head on her arm, half asleep, and seated herself in the red light ofthe fire, gazing into the blaze with soft indifference. Her dark woollendress was brightened by the ribbons which circled her little waist andknotted themselves at the ends of the long braids of her hair. She had astring of yellow beads round her neck, and on her feet the littleslippers which Anne had fashioned for her with so much care. Her brownhands lay crossed on her lap, and her small but bold-featured profilelooked more delicate than usual, outlined in relief like a little cameoagainst the flame. The visitor's eyes rested upon her for a moment, andthen turned back to Anne. "There is to be a dance to-night down in oneof the old warehouses," he said, "and I want you to go."

  "A dance!" cried the boys; "then _we_ are going too. It is Christmasnight, and we know how to dance. See here." And they sprang out into thecentre of the room, and began a figure, not without a certain wild graceof its own, keeping time to the shrill whistling of Gabriel, who was thefifer and leader of the band.

  Miss Lois put down her knitting, and disapproved, for the old trainingwas still strong in her; then she remembered that these were things ofthe past, shook her head at herself, sighed, and resumed it again.

  "Of course you will go," said the visitor.

  "I do not know that I _can_ go, Rast," replied Anne, turning toward herfather, as if to see what he thought.

  "Yes, go," said Douglas--"go, Annet." He hardly ever used this name,which the children had given to their elder sister--a name that was notthe French "Annette," but, like the rest of the island _patois_, amispronunciation--"An'net," with the accent on the first syllable. "Itis Christmas night," said Douglas, with a faint interest on his fadedface; "I should like it to be a pleasant recollection for you, Annet."

  The young girl went to him; he kissed her, and then rose to go to hisstudy; but Tita's eyes held him, and he paused.

  "Will _you_ go, Miss Lois?" said Anne.

  "Oh no, child," replied the old maid, primly, adjusting her spectacles.

  "But you must go, Miss Lois, and dance with me," said Rast, springing upand seizing her hands.

  "Fie, Erastus! for shame! Let me go," said Miss Lois, as he tried todraw her to her feet. He still bent over her, but she tapped his cheekwith her knitting-needles, and told him to sit down and behave himself.

  "I won't, unless you promise to go with us," he said.

  "Why should you not go, Lois?" said Douglas, still standing at the door."The boys want to go, and some one must be with them to keep them inorder."

  "Why, doctor, imagine me at a dancing party!" said Miss Lois, thepeach-like color rising in her thin cheeks again.

  "It is different here, Lois; everybody goes."

  "Yes; even old Mrs. Kendig," said Tita, softly.

  Miss Lois looked sharply at her; old Mrs. Kendig was fat, toothless, andseventy, and the active, spare New England woman felt a sudden wrath atthe implied comparison. Griselda was not tried upon the subject of herage, or we might have had a different legend. But Tita looked as idlycalm as a summer morning, and Miss Lois turned away, as she had turned ahundred times before, uncertain between intention and simple chance.

  "Very well, then, I will go," she said. "How you bother me, Erastus!"

  "No, I don't," said the youth, releasing her. "You know you like me,Miss Lois; you know you do."

  "Brazen-face!" said Miss Lois, pushing him away. But any one could seethat she did like him.

  "Of course I may go, father?" said Tita, without stirring, but lookingat him steadily.

  "I suppose so," he answered, slowly; "that is, if Erastus will take careof you."

  "Will you take care of me, Erastus?" asked the soft voice.

  "Don't be absurd, Tita; of course he will," said Miss Lois, shortly. "Hewill see to you as well as to the other children."

  And then Douglas turned and left the room.

  Erastus, or Rast, as he was called, went back to his place beside Anne.He was a remarkably handsome youth of seventeen, with bright blue eyes,golden hair, a fine spirited outline, laughing mouth, and impetuous,quick movements; tall as a young sapling, his figure was almost tooslender for its height, but so light and elastic that one forgave thefault, and forgot it in one look at the mobile face, still boyish inspite of the maturity given by the hard cold life of the North.

  "Why have we not heard of this dance before, Erastus?" asked Miss Lois,ever mindful and tenacious of a dignity of position which no onedisputed, but which was none the less to her a subject of constant andbelligerent watchfulness--one by which she gauged the bow of theshop-keeper, the nod of the passing islander, the salute of the littlehalf-breed boys who had fish to sell, and even the guttural ejaculationsof the Chippewas who came to her door offering potatoes and Indiansugar.

  "Because it was suggested only a few hours ago, up at the fort. I wasdining with Dr. Gaston, and Walters came across from the commandant'scottage and told me. Since then I have been hard at work with them,decorating and lighting the ball-room."

  "Which one of the old shells have you taken?" asked Miss Lois. "I hopethe roof will not come down on our heads."

  "We have Larrabee's; that has the best floor. And as to coming down onour heads, those old
warehouses are stronger than you imagine, MissLois. Have you never noticed their great beams?"

  "I have noticed their toppling fronts and their slanting sides, theirbulgings out and their leanings in," replied Miss Lois, nodding her heademphatically.

  "The leaning tower of Pisa, you know, is pronounced stronger than othertowers that stand erect," said Rast. "That old brown shell of Larrabee'sis jointed together so strongly that I venture to predict it willoutlive us all. We might be glad of such joints ourselves, Miss Lois."

  "If it will only not come down on our heads to-night, that is all I askof its joints," replied Miss Lois.

  Soon after seven o'clock the ball opened: darkness had already lain overthe island for nearly three hours, and the evening seemed well advanced.

  "Oh, Tita!" said Anne, as the child stepped out of her long cloak andstood revealed, clad in a fantastic short skirt of black cloth barredwith scarlet, and a little scarlet bodice, "that dress is too thin, andbesides--"

  "She looks like a circus-rider," said Miss Lois, in dismay. "Why did youallow it, Anne?"

  "I knew nothing of it," replied the elder sister, with a distressedexpression on her face, but, as usual, not reproving Tita. "It is thelittle fancy dress the fort ladies made for her last summer when theyhad tableaux. It is too late to go back now; she must wear it, Isuppose; perhaps in the crowd it will not be noticed."

  Tita, unmoved, had walked meanwhile over to the hearth, and sitting downon the floor before the fire, was taking off her snow-boots and donningher new slippers, apparently unconscious of remark.

  The scene was a striking one, or would have been such to a stranger. Thelower floor of the warehouse had been swept and hastily garnished withevergreens and all the flags the little fort could muster; at each endon a broad hearth a great fire of logs roared up the old chimney, andhelped to light the room, a soldier standing guard beside it, andkeeping up the flame by throwing on wood every now and then from theheap in the corner near by. Candles were ranged along the walls, andlanterns hung from the beams above; all that the island could do in theway of illumination had been done. The result was a picturesque minglingof light and shade as the dancers came into the ruddy gleam of the firesand passed out again, now seen for a moment in the paler ray of a candlefarther down the hall, now lost in the shadows which everywhere sweptacross the great brown room from side to side, like broad-winged ghostsresting in mid-air and looking down upon the revels. The music came fromsix French fiddlers, four young, gayly dressed fellows, and twogrizzled, withered old men, and they played the tunes of the centurybefore, and played them with all their might and main. The little fort,a one-company post, was not entitled to a band; but there were, asusual, one or two German musicians among the enlisted men, and these nowstood near the French fiddlers and watched them with slow curiosity,fingering now and then in imagination the great brass instruments whichwere to them the keys of melody, and dreaming over again the happy dayswhen they, too, played "with the band." But the six French fiddlerscared nothing for the Germans; they held themselves far above the commonsoldiers of the fort, and despised alike their cropped hair, theirideas, their uniforms, and the strict rules they were obliged to obey.They fiddled away with their eyes cast up to the dark beams above, andtheir tunes rang out in that shrill, sustained, clinging treble which noinstrument save a violin can give. The entire upper circle of societywas present, and a sprinkling of the second; for the young officerscared more for dancing than for etiquette, and a pretty young Frenchgirl was in their minds of more consequence than even the five MissesMacdougall with all their blood, which must have been, however, of athin, although, of course, precious, quality, since between the wholefive there seemed scarcely enough for one. The five were there, however,in green plaided delaines with broad lace collars and large flatshell-cameo breastpins with scroll-work settings: they presented animposing appearance to the eyes of all. The father of these ladies, longat rest from his ledgers, was in his day a prominent resident officialof the Fur Company; his five maiden daughters lived on in the old house,and occupied themselves principally in remembering him. Miss Lois seatedherself beside these acknowledged heads of society, and felt that shewas in her proper sphere. The dance-music troubled her ears, but sheendured it manfully.

  "A gay scene," she observed, gazing through her spectacles.

  The five Misses Macdougall bowed acquiescence, and said that it wasfairly gay; indeed, rather too gay, owing to more of a mingling thanthey approved; but nothing, ah! nothing, to the magnificententertainments of times past, which had often been described to them bytheir respected parent. (They never seemed to have had but one.)

  "Of course you will dance, Anne?" said Rast Pronando.

  She smiled an assent, and they were soon among the dancers. Tita, leftalone, followed them with her eyes as they passed out of the fire-lightand were lost in the crowd and the sweeping shadows. Then she made herway, close to the wall, down to the other end of the long room, wherethe commandant's wife and the fort ladies sat in state, keeping up thedignity of what might be called the military end of the apartment. Hereshe sought the brightest light she could find, and placed herself in itcarelessly, and as though by chance, to watch the dancers.

  "Look at that child," said the captain's wife. "What an odd little thingit is!"

  "It is Tita Douglas, Anne's little sister," said Mrs. Bryden, the wifeof the commandant. "I am surprised they allowed her to come in thattableau dress. Her mother was a French girl, I believe. Dr. Douglas, youknow, came to the island originally as surgeon of the post."

  "There is Anne now, and dancing with young Pronando, of course," saidthe wife of one of the lieutenants.

  "Dr. Gaston thinks there is no one like Anne Douglas," observed Mrs.Bryden. "He has educated her almost entirely; taught her Latin andGreek, and all sorts of things. Her father is a musical genius, youknow, and in one way the girl knows all about music; in another, nothingat all. Do you think she is pretty, Mrs. Cromer?"

  Mrs. Cromer thought "Not at all; too large, and--unformed in every way."

  "I sometimes wonder, though, why she is not pretty," said Mrs. Bryden,in a musing tone. "She ought to be."

  "I never knew but one girl of that size and style who was pretty, andshe had had every possible advantage of culture, society, and foreigntravel; wore always the most elaborately plain costumes--works of art,in a Greek sort of way; said little; but sat or stood about instatuesque attitudes that made you feel thin and insignificant, and gladyou had all your clothes on," said Mrs. Cromer.

  "And was this girl pretty?"

  "She was simply superb," said the captain's wife. "But do look at youngPronando. How handsome he is to-night!"

  "An Apollo Belvedere," said the wife of the lieutenant, who, havingrashly allowed herself to spend a summer at West Point, was now livingin the consequences.

  But although the military element presided like a court circle at oneend of the room, and the five Misses Macdougall and Miss Lois like anelement of first families at the other, the intervening space was wellfilled with a motley assemblage--lithe young girls with sparkling blackeyes and French vivacity, matrons with a shade more of brown in theircomplexions, and withered old grandams who sat on benches along thewalls, and looked on with a calm dignity of silence which never camefrom Saxon blood. Intermingled were youths of rougher aspect but of finemercurial temperaments, who danced with all their hearts as well asbodies, and kept exact time with the music, throwing in fancy steps frompure love of it as they whirled lightly down the hall with theirlaughing partners. There were a few young men of Scotch descent presentalso, clerks in the shops, and superintendents of the fisheries whichnow formed the only business of the once thriving frontier village.These were considered by island parents of the better class desirablesuitors for their daughters--far preferable to the young officers whosucceeded each other rapidly at the little fort, with attachmentsdelightful, but as transitory as themselves. It was noticeable, however,that the daughters thought otherwise. Near the doo
rway in the shadow acrowd of Indians had gathered, while almost all of the common soldiersfrom the fort, on one pretext or another, were in the hall, attending tothe fires and lights, or acting as self-appointed police. Even ChaplainGaston looked in for a moment, and staid an hour; and later in theevening the tall form of Pere Michaux appeared, clad in a furred mantle,a black silk cap crowning his silver hair. Tita immediately left herplace and went to meet him, bending her head with an air of deepreverence.

  "See the child--how theatrical!" said Mrs. Cromer.

  "Yes. Still, the Romanists do believe in all kinds of amusements, andeven ask a blessing on it," said the lieutenant's wife.

  "It was not that--it was the little air and attitude of devoutness thatI meant. See the puss now!"

  But the puss was triumphant at last. One of the younger officers hadnoted her solemn little salutation in front of the priest, and nowapproached to ask her to dance, curious to see what manner of child thissmall creature could be. In another moment she was whirling down thehall with him, her dark face flushed, her eyes radiant, her dancingexquisitely light and exact. She passed Anne and Rast with a sparklingglance, her small breast throbbing with a swell of satisfied vanity thatalmost stopped her breath.

  "There is Tita," said the elder sister, rather anxiously. "I hope Mr.Walters will not spoil her with his flattery."

  "There is no danger; she is not pretty enough," answered Rast.

  A flush rose in Anne's face. "You do not like my little sister," shesaid.

  "Oh, I do not dislike her," said Rast. "I could not dislike anythingthat belonged to _you_," he added, in a lower tone.

  She smiled as he bent his handsome head toward her to say this. She wasfond of Rast; he had been her daily companion through all her life; shescarcely remembered anything in which he was not concerned, from herfirst baby walk in the woods back of the fort, her first ride in adog-sledge on the ice, to yesterday's consultation over the chapelevergreens.

  The six French fiddlers played on; they knew not fatigue. In imaginationthey had danced every dance. Tita was taken out on the floor severaltimes by the officers, who were amused by her little airs and her smallelfish face: she glowed with triumph. Anne had but few invitations, savefrom Rast; but as his were continuous, she danced all the evening. Atmidnight Miss Lois and the Misses Macdougall formally rose, and the fortladies sent for their wrappings: the ball, as far as the first circlewas concerned, was ended. But long afterward the sound of the fiddleswas still heard, and it was surmised that the second circle was havingits turn, possibly not without a sprinkling of the third also.