"Be good, sweet child, and let who will be clever,
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long
So shalt thou make life, death, and that vast forever,
One grand, sweet song."
KINGSLEY.
"No one who aspires to the honor of writing my letters," said Mr.
Rutledge, as I entered the breakfast-room, "can indulge in such late
hours as these. Twenty minutes to eight, Mademoiselle, and the mail goes
at ten. You are getting in shocking habits."
"Why sir!" I exclaimed, "I've been up two hours at least."
"And what have you been doing all that time, I should like to be
informed?"
"I've been to the barn and fed the kittens, and to the stable and fed
the dogs; and then I went to the garden for some flowers, but the frost
had been there before me and there wasn't one worth pulling. So to get
warm (it's very chilly out this morning) I ran down the avenue, and
across to the chestnut wood, and so home by the lake. And here are all
the chestnuts those rascally village boys have left!" I exclaimed,
throwing a couple of handfuls on the table. "I do wonder, sir, you allow
them to commit such trespasses, so near the house too. I would keep at
least that grove for my own use. I never saw finer trees, and a week ago
they were loaded, Stephen says. Yesterday morning there were two boys up
threshing one of the largest trees; I heard them, just as I came under
it; the nuts were falling down nicely, so I began to pick them up as
unconcernedly as possible, and got my pockets and apron full, while the
young vagabonds up in the tree didn't dare, of course, to breathe, for
fear of being discovered and had to see me carrying off their precious
nuts without a word. I didn't leave a shell, I assure you; I never
enjoyed anything more and went down this morning in hope of another
adventure."
"I hope," said Mr. Rutledge very seriously, "that you will never do such
an imprudent thing again. You should never go into the woods without
taking Kitty with you, least of all, when there are such marauders
about."
"I took Solo and Dash with me, and I would have kept them up there till
noon, if I had caught them at it again, the rascals."
"You are very thoughtless, not to be aware of the danger of provoking
such lawless fellows."
"I cannot see the danger; not half a mile from the house, and with two
great dogs to back me. And 'if the worst came to the worst,' I know I
could outrun the longest-legged loafer among them."
The words were hardly out of my mouth, when I remembered that this
latter accomplishment had not appeared to win me any favor from Mr.
Rutledge in the unlucky affair of the glove yesterday; and, with a
blush, I hastily, by way of effacing the impression, continued:
"But if you don't approve, of course I will not do so again; and when
Kitty can't be spared to go with me, I will stay nearer the house."
"Kitty always can be spared, and though I am sorry to insist upon your
taking her, I shall be much better satisfied to know you are not alone."
"Very well, sir. May I trouble you for another biscuit?"
"You have a fine color this morning. Rutledge agrees with you."
"Famously," I replied, applying myself with great satisfaction to my
breakfast; "and as I have so much to do before ten o'clock, there's no
time to lose."
"Not a minute; but I should be uncomfortable to think you were starved;
don't hurry so frantically."
"There! I'm ready now," I exclaimed, in a few minutes following him into
the library with a light step, and singing snatches of a gay tune.
"I see you do not dread work," he said, as I sat down before the
writing-table, and took up a pen with alacrity.
"Not when I can see daylight through it, sir, and a reasonable prospect
ahead of getting it done. Now, sir."
And Mr. Rutledge dictated, and I wrote for an hour, without the
slightest intermission. At the end of that time he said:
"Do you think you are equal to the task of answering those two letters
by yourself, of which I will give you a general idea, while I look over
those accounts with Maurice and Ruthven, to be added to the New Orleans
letter? It is important that they should all be dispatched to-day."
"If you are willing to trust me, I am willing to try."
And I immediately began the task. It was by no means an easy one; but by
referring to the letters to be answered, and by keeping before my mind
the synopsis Mr. Rutledge had briefly given me, I was able to finish
them to his satisfaction; added the memoranda he had been making to the
other letter, sealed and addressed them all, and had the package ready
for Michael when he appeared at the door at ten o'clock.
"You have worked pretty well for two hours," said Mr. Rutledge, as for a
moment I leaned my head on my hand. "I am afraid you are tired."
"Not in the least," I said bravely, looking up.
"Then get your bonnet and come out with me. It is too fine a day to stay
in the house."
As I followed him through the hall, Mrs. Roberts encountered us at the
dining-room door. Her greeting to me was stiffer than ever. To Mr.
Rutledge she said:
"If you can spare the time, sir, you would oblige me very much by
looking over the 'household expenses' this morning; Dorothy has got her
account with the grocer in a great snarl, and hasn't done much better
with the butcher, and I can't make them all come out right."
"My good friend," said Mr. Rutledge, "if you had appealed to me any
other time, I might have helped you, but I have been doing quite as much
this morning as I think prudent; to-morrow I will attend to the books."
"I am sorry," said Mrs. Roberts, uneasily; "but to-day is the day the
grocer brings in his account, and I don't like those sort of people to
suppose there's any irregularity in the accounts we keep. They're always
ready enough to take advantage."
"Couldn't I help you, Mrs. Roberts?" I asked. "I should be very willing
to."
She gave me a look which plainly said, "_You_ help _me!_" but she merely
answered:
"Thank you, Miss, but Mr. Rutledge understands the books better than any
one; and if he felt able"----
"But he doesn't," said the gentleman in question. "The grocer can come
to-morrow with his bill. It will not signify for once."
Still Mrs. Roberts demurred, and I saw there would be no peace till she
worried Mr. Rutledge into it, so I renewed my offer of assistance. This
time it seemed to strike her in a more favorable light.
"If I didn't mind the trouble, perhaps I might help her reckon it up.
She wasn't as quick at figures as she used to be."
I would do my best, I said, untying my bonnet. But Mr. Rutledge
peremptorily interfered.
"By no means, Mrs. Roberts. She has been writing two hours already for
me; she must have nothing more at present," and he walked on toward the
door.
But the housekeeper was by no means vanquished, and clung tenaciously to
my offer. She was sure, she said, the young lady would be glad to
oblige an old woman. And duty so plainly pointed that way, that I
wavered no longer. I had made up my mind to be kind to Mrs. Roberts;
here was the chance to carry my good resolutions into effect. Throwing
my bonnet into a chair, I said:
"If you will excuse me from walking with you, Mr. Rutledge, I will see
what I can do to help Mrs. Roberts."
"I cannot excuse you," he replied, with decision. "I do not think it
best for you to be confined to the house any longer at present."
"Oh," I exclaimed, while Mrs. Roberts looked on anxiously, "I have been
used to studying and writing nine hours out of the twenty-four at
school, and this morning's business has been mere play. I shall not
think of feeling tired for hours yet, so please do not make any
objections. Come, Mrs. Roberts," I continued, going toward the stairs,
and giving her a little nod.
She hesitated, and I saw her glance uneasily at Mr. Rutledge. I now
perceived that he was more than vexed; but I was strong enough to dare
even that, when I was as certain as I now was about what I ought to do.
He naturally, I thought, didn't like to have his wishes interfered with;
but that could not alter the right for me, "and he cannot help but see
that when he thinks it over." So again summoning Mrs. Roberts, I excused
myself to him, and ran upstairs, followed lumberingly by the
housekeeper, while the hall door closed, with no gentle emphasis,
between us and the sunny autumn morning.
I am only doing Mrs. Roberts justice, when I say that on that particular
occasion, she manifested diplomatic talents, which, in another sphere of
life, would have won her no inconsiderable place. I had not given her
credit for the tact and acuteness that developed themselves that
morning, and which, added to her well-known decision and unalterable
devotion to the one idea that happened to be uppermost, formed the
elements of a character I had not sufficiently looked up to. This, of
course, I did not appreciate at first, and went at my task with the
kindest desire to get Mrs. Roberts out of her perplexity, and unravel
the tangled threads of Dorothy's arithmetical inaccuracies.
It was the greatest effort of self-denial that I could well have
attempted, for besides the heroism required to give up my walk with Mr.
Rutledge, on this splendid day, and spending the morning instead with
the only person I sincerely disliked in the house, and in the room of
all others that I was most averse to, was added my unconquerable
detestation of mathematical calculations of all kinds. From the
multiplication table up, I held all such exercises in abomination. But
Miss Crowen, with her usual discrimination, having detected this weak
point in my character, bent her whole mind to the strengthening of it,
and night and day, labored to instill into my unwilling brain the rules
and methods it was constitutionally unfitted to receive. Other studies
were made to bend before it; favorite pursuits were sacrificed to this
one object; passionate tears had washed the distracting figures from the
hated slate; high tragedy had been enacted before the blackboard, and
stormy scenes in the study had only strengthened Miss Crowen in her
determination to enforce obedience, and her pupil in resistance to what
she looked upon as tyrannical injustice. The result of this continued
struggle was, that after nearly five years of drilling in that branch of
study, to the exclusion of more congenial pursuits, I left St.
Catharine's with about the amount of mathematical knowledge usually
acquired by girls of ordinary application in a year and a half. I was
too fresh, however, from such exercises, not to be quite competent to
master the difficulties presented in the Rutledge "Household Expenses,"
and before an hour had passed, had reduced the "snarl" to a very
comprehensible state, and calling to Mrs. Roberts to come and look over
it, I began to explain the errors I had found, and the manner in which
I had corrected them, in as lucid language as I could command.
But Mrs. Roberts was hopelessly obtuse; she put on her glasses and
fumbled among the loose papers on which Dorothy registered her financial
transactions, with agonizing bewilderment. In vain I assured her I had
copied them off on the book, and they would give her no light on the
subject; she could not give them up, and again and again looked them
over, and bemoaned Dorothy's inaccuracy and her own stupidity. She hoped
I would excuse her, but she could not really get her mind quite clear
about that last column; would it be asking too much of me to run it over
again aloud. I tried to be patient, and again went over it, and
explained the case in all its bearings. I resolutely kept my back to the
window, and would, if I could, have forgotten that there was such a
thing as sunshine in the world; but, however I may have succeeded in
that attempt, I could not help hearing Mr. Rutledge's step on the stone
walk outside, as he returned from the direction of the stables; nor
could I help being aware that he entered the house, paused a moment in
the library, then came upstairs. The fragrance of an Havana penetrating
the keyhole, told he had passed this door, and gone into his
dressing-room. My fingers flew over the columns; in proportion as my
patience diminished Mrs. Roberts' dullness increased; she fretted, she
groaned, she bewildered me with questions, and almost crying with
vexation, I exclaimed, as I heard the horses coming up from the stable:
"Oh, Mrs. Roberts! Won't you please understand! Can't you see the only
mistake was in that second figure, and that I've put it all right? Can't
you see it balances?"
But Mrs. Roberts couldn't see, and her obtuseness redoubled, as Mr.
Rutledge's door opened and closed again, and his steps echoed down the
staircase and across the hall. I could not help leaning back, and
glancing out of the window, while tears of disappointment and vexation
rushed to my eyes, as I saw Mr. Rutledge drive off with Michael in the
light wagon, and the identical pair of fast trotters that I had made
admiring acquaintance with a few days since at the stable. As their
hoofs clattered rapidly down the avenue, I could have thrown the
account-books at Mrs. Roberts' head, for in truth it began to dawn upon
me that that worthy person had had some ends of her own to serve in
keeping me so long at the work of elucidation, and that something
besides natural dullness of comprehension had been in the way of her
understanding my calculations. I began to reflect on the absurdity of
supposing that a woman who had for years had the charge of such an
establishment as Rutledge, could be in reality so dull and ignorant as
she had appeared this morning. There could be no doubt but that she had
intended to keep me in the house; for what cause, I could not yet
determine.
The mists that had obscured her intellect, began now, however, to clear
away; and it was not long before she pronounced herself quite satisfied
on all points, even on the vexed and tortured question of that "last
column," and I was released from my task. I did not doubt the sincerity
of Mrs. Roberts' rather meagre thanks, nor the truthfulness of her
slight commendation of my patience. It was not in her way to flatter,
and I knew that for some cause she distrusted me, and that whatever
praise she awarded me, was fairly wrung from her by her stubborn sense
of justice. Though I knew Mrs. Roberts had been generalling this
morning, there was that about her that forbade my doubting her habitual
truthfulness. I merely replied that she was welcome to the assistance I
had been able to give her, and with a weary step I left the room.
At the door I found Tigre waiting for me with wistful earnestness in his
erected ears and attentive eyes. I took him in my arms, and carried him
into my own room, where I tried to enter with spirit into the frolic he
seemed to desire. But it proved a miserable failure; I could not enjoy
that or anything else; my head ached "splittingly," and the sunshine
streaming in at the window made it worse, and playing with Tigre made it
worse, and reading, writing, thinking, all made it worse. What should I
do? I hadn't even the spirit to go out into the fresh air; but, leaning
wearily on the dressing-table, counted the heads on my bracelet, and
wondered that I could have been so happy this morning.
By and by, I summoned sufficient energy to smooth my hair, and bathe my
head with eau de Cologne; then, calling Tigre, I concluded to go to the
library for a book. I found that apartment rather more endurable than my
own just then, as the sun did not come in there at that hour of the
morning, and the light was very subdued, and the room was quietness
itself; so, taking a book from the table, I arranged the cushions of the
sofa alluringly, and motioning Tigre to his place beside me, sat down to
reading. It would have been a thrilling book that could have riveted my
wandering thoughts that morning; and unluckily the book I had chosen was
very far from that stamp; it was a third-rate novel of the highly
wrought order, into whose pages characters, incidents, scenes, were
crowded in such bewildering profusion, that one's appreciative powers
were fagged out and exhausted, before the first chapter was
accomplished, and, like a restaurant dinner, where all the dishes taste
alike, there was but one flavor to the whole array of dramatis personæ
from heroine to _bête noire;_ but "one gravy" for roast, bouilli, and
ragout. The wearying tide of adjectives and interjections stunned my
senses; the book slipped from my hands, and, leaning my head on the
cushions, my eyes closed, and with one arm round Tigre and the other
under my head, I slept, realizing even in sleep that the bracelet
touched my cheek.
The precise duration of my nap I could not tell; but when I awoke, it
was to find Mr. Rutledge standing by me, I started up, and he said:
"I meant to be angry, but you look so pale and tired I think you are
punished enough already. Does your head ache still?" he continued,
laying his hand on my shoulder. "You would have done better to have
followed my advice. I knew you would repent."
"I don't repent, though," I said, quite decidedly. "I haven't even
thought of repenting, and would do it all over again, if the same
circumstances occurred."
"You begin to relent toward Mrs. Roberts, then," he said, coolly. "I
thought yesterday you didn't particularly affect my worthy housekeeper."
"My liking or disliking her doesn't alter the question of my duty. And,
Mr. Rutledge, I don't think it's kind in you to pretend not to
understand my motive. You must know that in all reason, I could not
prefer staying worrying in the house over some tiresome accounts, to
going out on such a splendid day; and you must see that there was no way
for me to refuse her conscientiously. You yourself say she is old, and
particular, and fixed in her ways; and I am certain you often put
yourself out to humor her; how can you blame me for not leaving her to
fret and worry over something that I could do for her in half the time?"
Mr. Rutledge looked down at me, but said nothing, while I briefly
concluded my defence, adding at the end, a concise request that he'd
please not say anything more about the matter.
"We will consider it amicably adjusted, then," he said, "and direct our
attention to something else. What, for instance, do you propose doing
with yourself this afternoon?"
"I haven't thought anything about it. Take a walk, perhaps."
"You are so fond of being useful," he said, rather wickedly, "would you
like to go down to the village for the letters?"
"Yes, I should like it very well, only I don't know the way exactly; but
I suppose I can inquire."
"Will you ride or walk? Michael can drive you down, or Kitty can walk
with you."
"I think I'll walk, if it makes no difference," I said, indifferently.
"I suppose," said Mr. Rutledge, "you don't like riding on horseback?"
Like it! There was no need to answer; my face told fully my enthusiastic
preference for that mode of travel.
"I do not know if there is any horse in the stable that I would venture
to let you ride. Madge I am afraid of. How long since you've ridden?"
"Not since I've been away at school; but I'm not a bit afraid. I used to
ride constantly at home. I had the dearest little pony; but he was
spirited enough, and I always managed him. I don't really think you need
be afraid to trust me," I went on, pleadingly.
Mr. Rutledge shook his head; Madge was only fit for an experienced
rider; she was too full of spirit for such a child to manage. Now, Madge
had been my secret admiration ever since I had had the entrée of the
stables, and I felt that life offered, at that moment, no more tempting
honor than a seat on her back; and it may be supposed I was not lukewarm
in my pleading. I urged, coaxed, entreated; I appealed to his
generosity, I promised everlasting gratitude.
"Dear Mr. Rutledge," I cried, "you know I go at my own risk; it will be
my own fault if anything happens to me. And oh! it will be _so_ unkind
if you refuse me the very first favor I ever asked of you!"
I am not sure about the tears at this point of the petition, though I
was quite in earnest enough to have cried, and I had begun to appreciate
the availability of tears as a weapon sufficiently to have used them if
they had occurred. Certain it is, however, that Mr. Rutledge began to
relent, and at last, though evidently much against his better judgment,
gave the desired permission.
"But remember, I don't approve it."
"Oh! but you will," I exclaimed, "when you see how quiet she'll be with
me!"
"And you have no habit," he continued.
"I'll manage that. Kitty's a host in herself; I'll press her into the
service."
My companion half sighed as I flew out of the room and upstairs, where,
in two minutes' time, I was deep in consultation with Kitty on the
subject of the habit. She entered into the plan with great ardor, and
racked her brains to devise something feasible. I sat on the bed and
waited breathlessly for the bright thought that I was sure would come,
sooner or later, to Kitty's clever brain.
"You say you have a jacket that will do," she said, meditatively.
"Yes, the very thing--black cloth, trimmed with buttons and all that;
and now, if I only had a long enough skirt. Oh, Kitty! can't you think
of something?"
Kitty knit her brows, and, after a moment, said, thoughtfully:
"There's a whole piece of black bombazine, that was left over from the
last funeral, upstairs in a trunk I know of. Sylvie and I could run up
the breadths in no time. Would you mind?"
"Oh, Kitty! I couldn't quite stand that!" I exclaimed, between a shudder
and a laugh. "Can't you think of anything else?"
"I have it!" cried she, with a sudden illumination of countenance. "I
have it!"
"What!--how? Oh, do tell me!"
"Why," said my artful maid, with mischief in every line of her bright
face, "why, Mrs. Roberts, by way of keeping me busy this morning, gave
me her best bombazine dress to rub off and press out, and it's
downstairs this minute; and you see, she always has a wide hem to her
dresses, and a great piece turned in at the top; so by letting out all
this, and putting on a piece around the waist, where it'll come under
the basque, it will make you the very nicest riding-skirt in the world."
And Kitty's eyes danced.
"Capital!" I cried. "But then, Kitty, I'm afraid it wouldn't be right;
I'm afraid"----
"Don't disturb yourself, Miss; it'll be ready before you want it," and
my conscientious scruples were cut short by the abrupt exit of my maid,
who was out of hearing before I could remonstrate.
The dinner-bell rang at the same moment, and I ran down at the summons,
too much excited, and too nervous, however, to do more than go through
the ceremony of a meal. Mr. Rutledge was rather thoughtful; he called me
a foolish child for being so much excited about such a trifling affair.
As I rose to leave the table, he asked me if I had succeeded in
improvising a habit. I said yes, and that my present perplexity lay only
in the matter of a hat. He proposed to see if he could help me, by a
review of his chapeaux, past and present; and after trying on at least a
dozen caps and hats, beaver, straw, cloth, and velvet, I decided upon a
little black jockey cap, that was the trimmest, nattiest thing
imaginable, and I knew, from Mr. Rutledge's approving glance, vastly
becoming. So I bounded off to my room, to submit myself to Kitty's hands
for the next twenty minutes.
Very pretty, she assured me, I looked, as, the last touch bestowed, she
stepped back to take a survey of me.
"So slim and elegant, Miss, in your black clothes, and that jaunty
little cap, and your hair so smooth and tight to your head; nothing in
the way, nothing flying," said Kitty, with a gesture signifying her
aversion to the decorated style of equestrian costume, so popular with
our contemporaries. "And that skirt!" she exclaimed, smothering her
laughter, "who would think it was the very one Mrs. Roberts had on, day
before yesterday, when she was all dressed to go to the Parsonage!
Wouldn't her hair stand on end, Miss, if she could see it trailing
along the floor! The precious dress she always takes off before she'll
go down to the kitchen, even to give an order!"
"Oh, I'm really sorry, Kitty! Indeed, I've a great mind not to wear it."
"Why, Miss," she said, in alarm, "don't think anything about it. It
won't hurt it a bit; I'll have it just as good as when she gave it to
me, if I sit up half the night to fix it!"
And Kitty buttoned my boots with great _empressement_, and as Madge's
hoofs struck on the stone walk below, she hurried me off, thrusting my
gloves and handkerchief into my hand, and wishing me a very nice time.