"What is this passing scene?
A peevish April day!
A little sun, a little rain,
And then night sweeps along the plain,
And all things fade away."
KIRKE WHITE.
The grey dawn was just breaking when I woke Kitty. She started up
bewildered, and her bewilderment did not decrease when I told her the
object of this reveille. I never had any cause to doubt the sincerity of
the grief she showed on this occasion. I had added as much to the
pleasure of her life since I had been at Rutledge, as she had increased
the comfort of mine; and it was with no very light hearts that we went
about the business of packing. There was too much to be done, however,
to admit of much sentiment, and we both bestirred ourselves so
diligently, that before the breakfast bell rung my trunk was strapped
and labelled, my bag filled with everything necessary for the journey,
and my bonnet, cloak and shawl lying ready on the bed. There was not
another article now about the room that belonged to me. What a dreary
and forsaken look it had already; the toilet-table dismantled of its
recent ornaments; the books and work that had given so bright and
familiar a look to the pretty room, now all removed, and a bit of card,
a ball of cord, and some withered flowers, were all that graced the
étagère and the table.
I did not dare trust myself to enter into particulars, even in thought,
and with a very resolute voice, telling Kitty I would come up
immediately after breakfast, and see if there was anything more for her
to do, I went downstairs. The first floor presented signs of an
exciting stir; there was a very unusual bustle and movement in the quiet
hall--a trunk and a valise stood at the front door, a pile of cloaks and
wrappers lay beside them; Thomas' long limbs were animated with unwonted
energy, Mrs. Roberts bustled in and out of pantries, and to and fro
through side-doors and entries, in a very startling manner; Sylvie was
more raving distracted than ever--flew unmeaningly up and down
stairs--took the wrong thing to the wrong place--irritated everybody,
and was in the way generally. Mr. Rutledge, in the library, gave
audience to farmer, gardener, groom, and carpenter--delivered
orders--paid bills--settled accounts--the one undisturbed member of the
commonwealth. It was evident that the sudden marching orders had taken
them all by surprise, and unsettled most of their brains. Stephen,
alone, I was happy to notice, seemed to preserve in some degree the
possession of his reasoning faculties, and did not "haze" to the same
extent as the others. Kitty, I thought, comes honestly by her _sang
froid._
I stood some minutes by the hall window gazing out upon the dreary
winter landscape, the dull sky, the brown bare trees, the hard grey
earth, ashes of roses in hue, the nether millstone in hardness. It had
been the coldest night of the season, the water that stood in the narrow
carriage-tracks and in the little crescents that the horses' hoofs had
made, was frozen hard; the trees, the hedges, looked as if they were,
too--so still and stiff they stood. Not a bit of wind was stirring, but
the temperature was evidently moderating.
"Softening down for snow," Stephen remarked, as he passed out; "you'll
not have it so cold for your journey, Miss. It's too bad that you're
going, such fine sleighing as we have at Rutledge a little later in the
season. You should stay and enjoy it, Miss."
"I wish, indeed I could, Stephen," I said, with great sincerity. "It's
a long while since I've had a good sleigh-ride. The roads must be
splendid for it here, so broad and clear."
"Beautiful, Miss; packed smooth, and hard as the house floor, and as dry
as sand. You might walk over 'em in your thin slippers, and never wet
your feet. And the snow lays sometimes better than a month without a
rain or a thaw, the weather as clear as a bell and as cold as
Christmas-thermometer down to nobody knows where, and nobody minds,
after they're used to it. But maybe you're afraid of the cold?"
"Not I! It's the very thing I like. I'd give anything for a ride behind
those bays, wrapped up to the eyes in furs, on the coldest day Rutledge
ever saw. I know they must go like the very wind when there's snow on
the ground; don't they?"
"Aye, Miss, that they do!" exclaimed Stephen, warming up at the mention
of his favorites; for though the garden was his particular province, as
the oldest man in the service, he took a fatherly interest in everything
animate and inanimate on the place. "That they do! There's nothing in
this part of the country has ever begun to come up to 'em. I'd like you
to see 'em go, when their spirit's up! 'Taint many young ladies," he
continued, with a "gentleman of the old school" bow, "'taint many young
ladies as can tell a horse when they see him; but everybody says that
you sit like a born horsewoman, and Michael, stupid rascal as he is,
swears you ride like a cavalry officer. Nobody but the master ever
managed that Madge so before."
I acknowledged the compliment with a laugh and a blush, and encouraged
Stephen to continue his bulletin of the stable, in which he well knew my
interest. Indeed, the worthy gardener was not to blame for his
loquacity, as this was by no means the beginning of our acquaintance;
many a chat I had had with him over the garden-gate, while he leaned on
his spade, and discoursed willingly of the ancient glories of the house
of Rutledge, and the manifold virtues of the present master of it. I
knew he was a faithful, honest old fellow, shrewd and intelligent beyond
his class, and altogether, inestimably superior to many old fogies in
the higher walks of life, and being certain that he was very much
delighted to be talked to, I very much enjoyed talking to him.
He was just saying, with great appearance of sincerity, that he did not
know what they should all do, now I was going. I had waked up the old
place "amazing;" it was a long while since there had been anybody so
cheerful-like and bright in it; and as for his Kitty, he really did not
know how she could content herself after me--when we were both startled
by finding that Mr. Rutledge had been an undemonstrative auditor of the
whole conversation, and ostensibly engaged in putting some books into
the valise behind us, was quietly listening, and no doubt criticising,
all that had been said.
Stephen looked a little confused, only a very little though, and with
dogged dignity gave me many good wishes for the journey, bowed and
withdrew. I turned around and faced the intruder with a determination
not to be ashamed of myself, and not to acknowledge that I had been
unduly familiar with an inferior, and to submit to no lecture; but his
face was so different from anything that I had expected, that I blushed,
and looked very foolish, instead of very defiant. He laughed outright.
"Upon my word," he exclaimed, "I never saw old Stephen so nearly
embarrassed in my life; during an acquaintance of some forty years, I
never saw him approach so near a blush! And you, young lady, certainly
have an extraordinary taste for low life! You have no greater passion,
that I can see, than the one you have just been acknowledging to
Stephen, for horseflesh generally; and as for dogs, your mind runs on
them continually; Kitty shares your confidence--Stephen is
hail-fellow-well-met--Michael swears by you, and"----
"That's enough for the present, if you please," I said, hurrying into
the dining-room.
"You will have coffee, sir?" I continued, very blandly, sitting down at
the table.
"Are you sure you know enough of such things to make me a palatable cup?
I know you could saddle my horse for me in extremity, and groom the bays
to perfection, but whether you're to be trusted with anything so
feminine as making coffee, really you must excuse me for being a little
skeptical."
"Ah! please, Mr. Rutledge!"
But it did not please Mr. Rutledge to do anything but tease me just at
that time. After breakfast was over, he told me, looking at his watch in
his precise manner, that there was just an hour and a quarter before it
would be time to start, and if I had nothing better to do, I might come
down to the stables with him, and give my parting orders about the care
of the horses and dogs. I did not know whether this invitation was given
sarcastically or sincerely, but I preferred accepting it in the latter
sense; so I ran upstairs and put on my bonnet and cloak and joined him
in the hall in a very short time. He evidently did not mean to give me
opportunity for any sentimental regrets, for he never before had been
half so teasing. I could not do anything right, though I was a baa-lamb,
as far as submissiveness went. I walked either too slow or too fast, was
too chatty with the groom, or too taciturn with him; there was not a
fault or indiscretion in all our previous acquaintance that I did not
then and there have to bear the penalty of. It was only when I came to
say good-bye to Madge that my courage gave way completely, and I leaned
my forehead on her glossy neck to conceal the silly tears that filled my
eyes.
"I verily believe," said Mr. Rutledge, "that she knows you. She does
not submit to such familiarity from strangers."
Finding that I did not answer, he continued, in a kinder tone:
"I think, as you broke her in, to feminine usage at least, you are
entitled to her; so I make her over to you, body and soul, if soul she
has, to have and to hold, from this day forward; and a tender mistress
may she find you."
"Thank you," I said, without raising my head; "a very useful gift; of
about as much service to me as if you should make over to me your right
and title in the fastest pair of reindeer in the employ of the Hudson's
Bay Company."
"Why, don't you mean ever to come here again? If you don't, you had
better take her with you. Any way, she is mine no longer. What shall be
done with her? Shall Michael blanket and prepare her to accompany us to
New York? or will you leave her here till you come back?"
"Ah! Do you fancy I am child enough to believe in such a conveyance as
that? It wouldn't stand in any court of law."
"What would you have? There isn't a magistrate within four miles, and we
haven't the time to draw up a document properly. I will tell you what
can be done as next best. I will record the transaction here, above her
manger, and there it shall remain to remotest ages, 'to witness if I
lie.'"
Mr. Rutledge took out his penknife, and with considerable ingenuity
carved in the sturdy old oak beam, the transfer of Madge Wildfire from
himself to me, using, for brevity, only initials, and then the date. I
climbed up to the fourth round of the ladder when it was completed, and
did my best to achieve a signature, but the result was so unsatisfactory
that Mr. Rutledge put beneath it, "her mark," and so it stands to this
day, I suppose. This transaction having consumed a good deal of the
hour and a quarter that we had before starting, Mr. Rutledge rather
hurried up my adieux with my new favorite, and it was very ungraciously
that he submitted to wait till I had cut a lock from her black mane, and
embraced her tenderly for the twentieth time.
"Nobody is to ride her, remember," I said, as we went out; "only, of
course, the man who takes care of her, when it is necessary for
exercise."
"Your orders shall be obeyed. Any further instructions that may occur to
you in the course of the winter you had better commit to paper and send
to me, and I will observe them faithfully."
"Oh, I depend entirely on your integrity; I am confident you will be
careful of her. Anyway," I continued, "it's a comfort to know I own
anything at Rutledge, and have a sort of claim upon its hospitality
still. Ah! how long it will be before I walk up this road with you
again, Mr. Rutledge!"
"Maybe not," he answered. "You shall, if you will, come back and make me
a visit before many months are over; you shall come back and see how
Rutledge looks in her June dress,
"'When all this leafless and uncolored scene,
Shall flush into variety again;'
when this dull November sky shall have given place to the warmest summer
sunshine, and this hard, frozen earth shall be soft and brown, and roses
shall be blooming about this dreary porch, and the garden shall be one
wilderness of sweets, and the trees and the lawn shall be all of the
richest green. Will you come then, if I send for you?"
I checked my look of delight with a sigh: "you'll forget before that
time, I'm afraid. And I don't believe my aunt would let me come."
"You may trust that to me. Haven't you seen that I make people do as I
wish them to? Do you not believe that I can induce your aunt to let you
come, if I continue to want you, and you continue to want to come?"
"Perhaps so," I said, half incredulously; "but if I remember right, my
Aunt Edith is fond of her own way too, is she not?"
"She has that reputation," he answered, with a short laugh. "But _cela
ne fait rien_. You shall come if you wish to. Leave it to me, and say
nothing about it."
"June is a long way off yet, but it is better than two or three years,
the term of my 'honorable banishment,' that you first decreed."
Before we reached the house, the snow-flakes began to descend, large,
and soft, and white, floating down in fast-increasing thickness,
"As though life's only call or care
Were graceful motion."
"How pretty it makes the landscape!" I said, pausing on the steps. "In
among the bare trees there, it makes such a charming variety and
lightness, and in a few minutes every twig will be feathered with it,
and fences, and roofs, and all. Why can't we wait till we have had one
sleigh-ride?"
"This snow will not amount to anything; we should have to wait a long
while for a sleigh-ride. It is too early yet for that entertainment; a
fortnight hence will be time enough to expect it."
"I think you are mistaken," I said, looking wisely at the clouds,
"there's plenty of snow up there, and we shall have enough of it before
night, depend upon it. Hadn't we better wait till to-morrow? It would be
dreadful to be caught in a heavy snow-storm on the way."
"Have you forgotten your good resolutions of last night?" he said, in a
low tone. "There's the carriage."
And without answering a word I ran upstairs. Kitty wrapped me tenderly
in my soft shawl, and fastened my fur tippet carefully round my neck.
"Oh, Kitty! you'll smother me!" I cried. But it was something less
tangible than tippet or shawl that was smothering me just then, and
choking my breath. I gave one glance around the room, thrust a _douceur_
into Kitty's hand, and telling her to bring down my travelling-bag,
hurried out without a second look, and downstairs without a second
thought, sustained by the determination not to make a baby of myself and
cry.
The library was empty; I passed on through the hall. Mr. Rutledge was
already at the carriage, superintending the packing in it of numerous
valises, books, shawls, and packages. Mrs. Roberts, bluer than ever with
the cold, stood by him, busy with all the arrangements for his comfort,
and looking a shade more cheerless than usual, at the prospect of
separation from the master who stood to her lonely old age in the place
of son and friend. "I believe she does love him," I thought, and warming
toward her at the idea of one redeeming weakness, I walked up to her and
said, extending my hand:
"Good bye, Mrs. Roberts. I am afraid you will be glad to get rid of such
a troublesome guest; but I assure you I am very sorry to have given you
trouble, and very much obliged to you for the attention you have shown
me."
Mrs. Roberts gave me her hand, and answered, without any undignified
haste:
"All attentions you have received from me you are very welcome to. I
hope never to be wanting in my duty to any guest of Mr. Rutledge's."
"Then you can't regard me with favor for any other cause? Ah, Mrs.
Roberts, I don't know why it is you would never like me, even before I
gave you any reason to dislike me."
"Mrs. Roberts will learn to think differently some day, I hope," said
Mr. Rutledge, without looking up from his occupation. "Is there anything
more to go here?"
There was nothing, the last package was bestowed in its place, the last
strap secured. Thomas, who was to accompany his master to New York,
stood waiting for us to enter the carriage. Michael was on the box.
"We are all ready, then," and he motioned me to enter.
"Good bye, Mrs. Roberts," he continued. "I believe there is nothing
further that I wanted to say to you. Make yourself as comfortable as you
can this winter, and let me hear from you occasionally. I shall be back
by the latter part of January, however, and I hope everything will go on
well till then."
Mrs. Roberts looked very much as if she thought nothing more improbable
than his being back in January, but only said:
"Good bye, sir. I shall write."
Mr. Rutledge followed me into the carriage, and shut the door. I bowed
again to Mrs. Roberts, and looked out anxiously for Kitty, who had not
appeared since she brought down my bag; but at that moment Kitty, in
person, was discovered at the other window of the carriage, bringing me
a glove she said she had found, which, however, I guessed was only a
ruse to get another good bye.
"Ah, Kitty, that's the glove Tigre gnawed, and I never have found the
mate to it since that day; of course it's useless, so you'd better keep
it to 'remember me by,' as they say. Good bye, again."
Kitty said, "Good bye, Miss," but with so tearful and woebegone a look,
withal, that even Mr. Rutledge was touched, and leaning forward, he
said:
"Don't take it so very much to heart, my good girl. Your young mistress
will be back again, sometime, I hope. And be as obliging and submissive
as you can to Mrs. Roberts, Kitty; remember it was my last charge."
And dropping some coins into her hand, he told Michael to drive on. At
this moment Tigre rushed whining to the carriage, and I begged he might
be allowed to drive to the station, and come back in the carriage. Mr.
Rutledge consenting, Kitty placed the tawny favorite in my arms, and,
"Smack went the whip,
Round went the wheels,"
but I have known gladder folks. From the back of the carriage I watched
the lessening figures on the piazza, as we drove rapidly down the
avenue, and an involuntary sigh escaped me as a winding of the road hid
the dark house, with its snow-capped roofs and porticoes, from my sight.
"Good bye till June," I said, regretfully.
"Till June," repeated Mr. Rutledge, pulling Tigre's ears, and making him
yelp. "Do you understand, Tigre? This young lady means to come back in
June, if she doesn't change her mind. Understand the condition, Tigre.
What do you think of our chance?"
The cur, by way of answer, began gnawing at my tippet.
"Don't destroy that too, sir," I exclaimed. "You've ruined one pair of
gloves for me already. Isn't it singular, what could have become of that
other one," I continued. "I've searched high and low for it--everywhere,
in fact."
"Where did you see it last?" he inquired.
"I cannot remember anything about it, after--after--Tigre and I started
on our race. Don't scold," I said, coaxingly, "you know I am going to
reform."
"Careless girl," he said, gloomily, "what will you lose next?"
"It wasn't my fault; I've looked everywhere for it. Isn't it strange
what has become of it?"
"Very strange," said Mr. Rutledge, gravely. "Indeed, I may say, in a
high degree mysterious."