The Minister's Wooing
CHAPTER XXX.
BY six o’clock in the morning, Miss Prissy came out of the best roomto the breakfast-table, with the air of a general who has arranged acampaign, her face glowing with satisfaction. All sat down together totheir morning meal. The outside door was open into the green, turfyyard, and the apple-tree, now nursing stores of fine yellow jennetings,looked in at the window. Every once in a while, as a breeze shook theleaves, a fully ripe apple might be heard falling to the ground, atwhich Miss Prissy would bustle up from the table and rush to secure thetreasure.
As the meal waxed to its close, the rattling of wheels was heard at thegate, and Candace was discerned, seated aloft in the one-horse waggon,with her usual complements of baskets and bags.
‘Well, now, dear me! if there is not Candace,’ said Miss Prissy; ‘Ido believe Mrs. Marvyn has sent her with something for the quilting;’and out she flew as nimble as a humming-bird, while those in the househeard various exclamations of admiration, as Candace, with statelydignity, disinterred from the waggon one basket after another, andexhibited to Miss Prissy’s enraptured eyes sly peeps under the whitenapkins by which they were covered. And then, lodging a large basketon either arm, she rolled majestically towards the house, like aheavy-laden Indiaman coming in after a fat voyage.
‘Good morning, Mrs. Scudder. Good morning, Doctor,’ she said, droppingher curtsy on the door-step; ‘good morning, Miss Mary. You see ourfolks were stirring pretty early this morning, and Mrs. Marvyn sent medown with two or three little things.’ Setting down her baskets on thefloor, and seating herself between them, she proceeded to develop theircontents with ill-concealed triumph. One basket was devoted to cakesof every species, from the great Mont Blanc loaf-cake, with its snowyglaciers of frosting, to the twisted cruller and puffy dough-nut. Inthe other basket lay pots of golden butter curiously stamped, reposingon a bed of fresh green leaves, while currants, red and white, anddelicious cherries and raspberries, gave a final finish to the picture.From a basket which Miss Prissy brought in from the rear, appearedcold fowl and tongue, delicately prepared, and shaded with feathersof parsley. Candace, whose rollicking delight in the good things ofthis life was conspicuous in every emotion, might have famished toa painter, as she sat in a brilliant turban, an idea for an Africangenius of plenty.
‘Why, really, Candace,’ said Mrs. Scudder, ‘you are overwhelming us!’
‘Ho! ho! ho!’ said Candace, ‘I’se tellin’ Miss Marvyn folks don’t getmarried but once in their lives (gen’rally speaking, that is), and thenthey ought to have plenty to do it with.’
‘Well, I must say,’ said Miss Prissy, taking out the loaf-cake withbusy assiduity, ‘I must say, Candace, this does beat all!’
‘I should rather think it ought,’ said Candace, bridling herself withproud consciousness; ‘if it don’t it a’n’t ’cause old Candace ha’n’tput enough into it. I tell ye, I didn’t do nothing all day yesterdaybut just make dat ar cake. Cato, when he got up, he begun to talksomething about his shirt buttons, and I just shet him right up. SaysI, “Cato, when I’se really got cake to make for a great ’casion, I wantmy mind _just_ as quiet and _just_ as serene as if I was agoin’ to themeetin’. I don’t want no earthly cares on it. Now,” says I, “Cato, theold Doctor is going to be married, and dis yer is his quiltin’ cake,and Miss Mary, she’s going to be married, and dis yer is _her_ quiltin’cake. And dare’ll be everybody to dat ar quiltin’, and if de cake a’n’tright, why, ’twould be puttin’ a candle under a bushel. And so, saysI, Cato, your buttons must wait.” And Cato, he sees the ’priety of it,’cause though he can’t make cake like me, he’s a mazin’ good judgeof it, and is dre’ful tickled when I slip out a little loaf for hissupper.’
‘How is Mrs. Marvyn?’ said Mrs. Scudder.
‘Kinder thin and shimmery, but she is about, havin’ her eyes everywhereand looking into everything. She just touches things with the tips ofher fingers and they seem to go like. She’ll be down to the quiltin’this afternoon. But she told me to take the things and come down andspend the day here; for Mrs. Marvyn and I both knows how many stepsmust be taken such times, and we agreed you ought to favour yourselvesall you could.’
‘Well, now,’ said Miss Prissy, lifting up her hands, ‘if that a’n’twhat ’tis to have friends! Why, that was one of the things I wasthinking of as I lay awake last night: because you know at times likethese people run their feet off before the time begins, and then theyare all limpsey and lop-sided when the time comes. Now, I say, Candace,all Mrs. Scudder and Mary have to do is to give everything up to us,and we’ll put it through straight.’
‘That’s what we will,’ said Candace. ‘Just show me what’s to be done,and I’ll do it.’
Candace and Miss Prissy soon disappeared together into the pantry withthe baskets, whose contents they began busily to arrange. Candaceshut the door that no sound might escape, and began a confidentialoutpouring to Miss Prissy.
‘You see,’ she said, ‘I has _feelin’s_ all the while for Miss Marvyn;’cause, yer see, she was expectin’, if ever Mary was married—well—thatit would be to somebody else, you know.’
Miss Prissy responded with a sympathetic groan.
‘Well,’ said Candace, ‘if it had been anybody but the Doctor, _I_ wouldnot have been resigned. But after all he has done for my colour, therea’n’t nothing I could find it in my heart to grudge him. But then I wastellin’ Cato the other day, says I, “Cato, I don’t know about the restof the world, but I ha’n’t never felt it in my bones that Master Jamesis really dead, for sartin. Now I feels things _gen’rally_, but _some_things I feels _in my bones_, and them always comes true. And that aris a feelin’ I ha’n’t had about Master Jim yet, and that ar is what I’mwaitin’ for ’fore I clear make up my mind. Tho’ I know, ’cordin’ toall white folks’ way o’ thinkin’, there a’n’t no hope, ’cause ’SquireMarvyn he had that Jeduth Pettibone up to his house, a questioning onhim off and on, nigh about three hours. And reely I didn’t see no hopeno way, except just this, as I was tellin’ Cato, _I can’t feel it in mybones_.”‘
Candace was not versed enough in the wisdom of the world to know thatshe belonged to a large and respectable school of philosophers in thisparticular mode of testing evidence, which, after all, the reader willperceive has its conveniences.
‘Another thing,’ said Candace, ‘as much as a dozen times, dis yer lastyear, when I have been a-scourin’ knives, a fork has fell and stuckstraight up in the floor: and the last time I pinted it out to MissMarvyn, and she only just said, “Why, what of that, Candace?”’
‘Well,’ said Miss Prissy, ‘I don’t believe in _signs_, but then strangethings do happen. Now about dogs howling under windows; why, I don’tbelieve in it a bit, but I never knew it fail that there was a death inthe house after.’
‘Ah, I tell ye what,’ said Candace, looking mysterious, ‘dogs knows aheap more than they likes to tell!’
‘Just so,’ said Miss Prissy; ‘now I remember one night, when I waswatching with Miss Colonel Andrews, after Martha Ann was born, thatwe heard the _mournfullest_ howling that ever you did hear. It seemedto come from right under the front stoop; and Miss Andrews, she justdropped the spoon in her gruel, and says she, “Miss Prissy, do forpity’s sake just go down and see what that noise is.” And I went down,and lifted up one of the loose boards of the stoop, and what should Isee there but their Newfoundland pup; there that creature had dug agrave, and was a-sitting by it crying.’
Candace drew near to Miss Prissy, dark with expressive interest, as hervoice, in this awful narration, sank to a whisper.
‘Well,’ said Candace, after Miss Prissy had made something of a pause.
‘Well, I told Miss Andrews I didn’t think there was anything in it,’said Miss Prissy; ‘but,’ she added, impressively, ‘she lost a very dearbrother six months after, and I laid him out with my own hands—yes,laid him out in white flannel.’
‘Some folks say,’ said Candace, ‘that dreaming about white horses is acertai
n sign. Jinny Styles is very strong about that. Now she came downone morning crying, ’cause she had been dreaming about white horses,and she was sure she should hear some friend was dead. And sure enough,a man came in that day and told her that her son was drown’d out in theharbour. And Jinny said, “There, she was sure that sign never wouldfail.” But then, ye see, that night he came home. Jinny wan’t reelydisappointed, but she always insisted he was _as good as drowned_, anyway, “’cause he sank three times.”’
‘Well, I tell you,’ said Miss Prissy, ‘there are a great many morethings in this world than folks know about.’
‘So they are,’ said Candace. ‘Now, I ha’n’t never opened my mind tonobody; but there’s a dream I’ve had, three mornings running, lately. Idreamed I see Jim Marvyn a-sinking in the water, and stretching up hishands. And then I dreamed that I see the Lord Jesus come a-walking onthe water, and take hold of his hand, and says He, “O thou of littlefaith, wherefore didst thou doubt?” And then He lifted him right out.And I ha’n’t said nothing to nobody, ’cause you know the Doctor,—hesays people must not mind nothing about their dreams, ’cause dreamsbelong to the old ’spensation.’
‘Well! well! well!’ said Miss Prissy, ‘I am sure I don’t know what tothink. What time in the morning was it that you dreamed it?’
‘Why,’ said Candace, ‘it was just after bird-peep. I kinder alwayswakes myself then, and turns over, and what comes after that is apt torun clear.’
‘Well! well! well!’ said Miss Prissy, ‘I don’t know what to think. Yousee, it may have reference to the state of his soul.’
‘I know that,’ said Candace; ‘but as nigh as I could judge in mydream,’ she added, sinking her voice and looking mysterious, ‘as nighas I can judge, _that boy’s soul was in his body_!’
‘Why, how do you know?’ said Miss Prissy, looking astonished at theconfidence with which Candace expressed her opinion.
‘Well, ye see,’ said Candace, rather mysteriously, ‘the Doctor he don’tlike to have us talk much about these things, ’cause he thinks it’skind o’ heathenish. But then, folks as is used to seein’ such things,knows the look of a sperit _out_ of the body, from the look of a speritin the body, just as easy as you can tell Mary from the Doctor.’
At this moment Mrs. Scudder opened the pantry-door and put an endto this mysterious conversation, which had already so affected MissPrissy that, in the eagerness of her interest, she had rubbed up hercap border and ribbon into rather an elfin and goblin style, as ifthey had been ruffled up by a breeze from the land of spirits; and sheflew around for a few moments in a state of great nervous agitation,upsetting dishes, knocking down plates, and huddling up contrarysuggestions as to what ought to be done first, in such impossiblerelations, that Mrs. Katy Scudder stood in dignified surprise at thisstrange freak of conduct in the wise woman of the parish.
A dim consciousness of something not quite canny in herself appearedto strike her, for she made a vigorous effort to appear composed; andfacing Mrs. Scudder, with an air of dignified suavity, inquired if itwould not be best to put Jim Marvyn in the oven now, while Candace wasgetting the pies ready, meaning of course a large turkey which was tobe the first in an indefinite series to be baked that morning; anddiscovering, by Mrs. Scudder’s dazed expression and a vigorous pinchfrom Candace, that somehow she had not improved matters, she rubbedher spectacles in a diagonal manner across her eyes and stood glaringthrough them, with a helpless expression, which in a less judiciousperson might have suggested the idea of a state of slight intoxication.
But the exigencies of an immediate temporal dispensation put an end toMiss Prissy’s unwonted vagaries, and she was soon to be seen flyinground like a meteor, dusting, shaking curtains, counting napkins,wiping and sorting china, all with such rapidity as to give rise to theidea that she actually existed in forty places at once.
Candace, whom the limits of her corporeal frame restricted to analtogether different style of locomotion, often rolled the whites ofher eyes after her, and gave vent to her views of her proceedings insententious expressions.
‘Do you know why _dat ar_ never was married?’ she said to Mary, asshe stood looking after her. Miss Prissy had made one of those rapidtransits through the apartment.
‘No,’ answered Mary, innocently; ‘why was not she?’
‘Because never was a man could run fast enough to catch her,’ saidCandace; and then her portly person shook with the impulse of her ownwit.
By two o’clock a goodly company began to assemble. Mrs. Deacon Twitchelarrived, soft, pillowy, and plaintive as ever, accompanied by CerinthyAnn, a comely damsel, tall and trim, with a bright black eye and a mostvigorous and determined style of movement.
Good Mrs. Jones, broad, expansive, and solid, having vegetatedtranquilly on in the cabbage garden of the virtues since three yearsago when she graced our tea-party, was now as well preserved as ever,and brought some fresh butter, a tin pail of cream, and a loaf of cakemade on a new Philadelphia receipt. The tall, spare, angular figure ofMrs. Simeon Brown only was wanting; but she patronized Mrs. Scudderno more, and tossed her head with a becoming pride when her name wasmentioned.
The quilt-pattern was gloriously drawn in oak-leaves, done in indigo;and soon all the company, young and old, were passing busy fingers overit; and conversation went on briskly.
Madame de Frontignac, we must not forget to say, had entered withhearty _abandon_ into the spirit of the day. She had dressed the tallchina vases on the mantelpieces; and, departing from the usual ruleof an equal mixture of roses and asparagus bushes, had constructedtwo quaint and graceful bouquets, where garden flowers were mingledwith drooping grasses and trailing wild vines, forming a gracefulcombination, which excited the surprise of all who saw it.
‘It’s the very first time in my life that I ever saw grass put into aflower-pot,’ said Miss Prissy; ‘but I must say it looks as handsomeas a pictur’. Mary, I must say,’ she added in an aside, ‘I think thatMadame de Frongenac is the sweetest dressing and appearing creature Iever saw: she don’t dress up nor put on airs, but she seems to see ina minute how things ought to go; and if it’s only a bit of grass, orleaf, or wild vine, that she puts in her hair, why it seems to comejust right. I should like to make her a dress, for I know she wouldunderstand my fit; do speak to her, Mary, in case she should want adress fitted here, to let me try it.’
At the quilting, Madame de Frontignac would have her seat, and soonwon the respect of the party by the dexterity with which she used herneedle; though, when it was whispered that she learned to quilt amongthe nuns, some of the elderly ladies exhibited a slight uneasiness, asbeing rather doubtful whether they might not be encouraging papisticalopinions by allowing her an equal share in the work of getting up theirminister’s bed-quilt; but the younger part of the company were quitecaptivated by her foreign air, and the pretty manner in which shelisped her English; and Cerinthy Ann even went so far as to horrifyher mother, by saying that she wished she’d been educated in a conventherself,—a declaration which arose less from native depravity, thanfrom a certain vigorous disposition, which often shows itself in youngpeople, to shock the current opinions of their elders and betters. Ofcourse the conversation took a general turn, somewhat in unison withthe spirit of the occasion; and whenever it flagged, some allusion to aforthcoming wedding, or some sly hint to the future young Madam of theparish, was sufficient to awake the dormant animation of the company.
Cerinthy Ann contrived to produce an agreeable electric shock, bydeclaring that for her part she never could see into it, how any girlcould marry a minister—that she should as soon think of setting uphousekeeping in a meeting-house.
‘O, Cerinthy Ann!’ exclaimed her mother, ‘how can you go on so?’
‘It’s a fact,’ said the adventurous damsel; ‘now other men let you havesome peace, but a minister’s always round under your feet.’
‘So you think the less you see of a husband the better?’ said one ofthe ladies.
‘Just my views,’ s
aid Cerinthy, giving a decided snip to her threadwith her scissors; ‘I like the Nantucketers that go off on four years’voyages, and leave their wives a clear field. If ever I get married I’mgoing up to have one of those fellows.’
It is to be remarked, in passing, that Miss Cerinthy Ann was at thisvery time receiving surreptitious visits from a consumptive-looking,conscientious, young theological candidate who came occasionally topreach in the vicinity, and put up at the house of the Deacon, herfather. This good young man, being violently attacked on the doctrineof election by Miss Cerinthy, had been drawn on to illustrate itin a most practical manner, to her comprehension; and it was theconsciousness of the weak and tottering state of the internal garrison,that added vigour to the young lady’s tones. As Mary had been thechosen confidant of the progress of this affair, she was quietly amusedat the demonstration.
‘You’d better take care, Cerinthy Ann,’ said her mother; ‘they say that“those who sing before breakfast, will cry before night.” Girls talkabout getting married,’ she said, relapsing into a gentle didacticmelancholy, ‘without realizing its awful responsibilities.’
‘Oh! as to that,’ said Cerinthy, ‘I’ve been practising on my puddingnow these six years, and I shouldn’t be afraid to throw one up chimneywith any girl.’ This speech was founded on a tradition, current inthose times, ‘that no young lady was fit to be married till she couldconstruct a boiled Indian-pudding, of such durability, that it couldbe thrown up chimney and come down on the ground, outside, withoutbreaking;’ and the consequence of Cerinthy Ann’s sally was a generallaugh.
‘Girls a’n’t what they used to be in my day,’ sententiously remarked anelderly lady. ‘I remember my mother told me when she was thirteen shecould knit a long cotton stocking in a day.’
‘I haven’t much faith in these stories of old times; have you, girls?’said Cerinthy, appealing to the younger members at the frame.
‘At any rate,’ said Mrs. Twitchel, ‘our minister’s wife will be apattern; I don’t know anybody as goes beyond her either in spinning orfine stitching.’
Mary sat as placid and disengaged as the new moon, and listened to thechatter of old and young, with the easy quietness of a young heart thathas early outlived life, and looks on everything in the world from somegentle, restful eminence far on towards a better home. She smiled ateverybody’s word, had a quick eye for everybody’s wants, and was readywith thimble, scissors, or thread, whenever any one needed them; butonce when there was a pause in the conversation, she and Mrs. Marvynwere both discovered to be stolen away. They were seated on the bed inMary’s little room, with their arms around each other, communing in lowand gentle tones. ‘Mary, my dear child,’ said her friend, ‘this eventis very pleasant to me, because it places you permanently near me. Idid not know but eventually this sweet face might lead to my losingyou, who are in some respects the dearest friend I have.’
‘You might be sure,’ said Mary, ‘I never would have married, exceptthat my mother’s happiness and the happiness of so good a friend seemto depend on it. When we renounce self in anything, we have reason tohope God’s blessing; and so I feel assured of a peaceful life in thecourse I have taken. You will always be as a mother to me,’ she added,laying her head on her friend’s shoulder.
‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Marvyn; ‘and I must not let myself think a moment howdear it might have been to have you _more_ my own. If you feel really,truly happy, if you can enter on this life without any misgivings—’
‘I can,’ said Mary, firmly.
At this instant, very strangely, the string which confined a wreathof sea-shells around her glass, having been long undermined by moths,suddenly broke and fell down, scattering the shells upon the floor.
Both women started, for the string of shells had been placed there byJames; and though neither were superstitious, this was one of those oddcoincidences that make hearts throb.
‘Dear boy,’ said Mary, gathering the shells up tenderly; ‘wherever heis, I shall never cease to love him; it makes me feel sad to see thiscome down; but it is only an accident; nothing of him will ever failout of my heart.’
Mrs. Marvyn clasped Mary closer to her, with tears in her eyes.
‘I’ll tell you what, Mary; it must have been the moths did that,’said Miss Prissy, who had been standing, unobserved, at the door fora moment back; ‘moths will eat away strings just so. Last week Mrs.Vernon’s great family picture fell down because the moths eat throughthe cord; people ought to use twine or cotton string always. But Icame to tell you that the supper is all set, and the Doctor out of hisstudy, and all the people are wondering where you are.’
Mary and Mrs. Marvyn gave a hasty glance at themselves in the glass,to be assured of their good keeping, and went into the great kitchen,where a long table stood exhibiting all that plenitude of provisionwhich the immortal description of Washington Irving has saved us thetrouble of representing in detail.
The husbands, brothers, and lovers had come in, and the scene wasredolent of gaiety. When Mary made her appearance, there was a moment’spause, till she was conducted to the side of the Doctor; when, raisinghis hand, he invoked a grace upon the loaded board.
Unrestrained gaieties followed. Groups of young men and maidens chattedtogether, and all the gallantries of the times were enacted. Seriousmatrons commented on the cake, and told each other high and particularsecrets in the culinary art, which they drew from remote familyarchives. One might have learned in that instructive assembly how bestto keep moths out of blankets, how to make fritters of Indian cornundistinguishable from oysters: how to bring up babies by hand, and howto mend a cracked teapot, and how to take out grease from a brocade,and how to reconcile absolute decrees with free will, and how to makefive yards of cloth answer the purpose of six, and how to put down thedemocratic party. All were busy, earnest, and certain, just as a swarmof men and women, old and young, are in 1859.
Miss Prissy was in her glory; every bow of her best cap was alive withexcitement, and she presented to the eyes of astonished Newport gentryan animated receipt-book. Some of the information she communicated,indeed, was so valuable and important, that she could not trust the airwith it, but whispered the most important portions in a confidentialtone. Among the crowd Cerinthy Ann’s theological admirer was observedin deeply reflective attitude; and that high-spirited young lady addedfurther to his convictions of the total depravity of the species, byvexing and discomposing him in those thousand ways in which a lively,ill-conditioned young woman will put to rout a serious, well-disposedyoung man, comforting herself with the reflection that by-and-by shewould repent of all her sins in a lump together.
Vain, transitory splendours! Even this evening, so glorious, soheart-cheering, so fruitful in instruction and amusement, could notlast for ever. Gradually the company broke up; the matrons mountedsoberly on horseback behind their spouses; and Cerinthy consoled herclerical friend by giving him an opportunity to read her a lecture onthe way home, if he found the courage to do so.
Mr. and Mrs. Marvyn and Candace wound their way soberly homeward; theDoctor returned to his study for nightly devotions; and before long,sleep settled down on the brown cottage.
‘I’ll tell you what, Cato,’ said Candace, before composing herself tosleep, ‘I can’t feel it in my bones dat dis yer wedding is going tocome off yet.’