There was great interest now at Shadywalk, at least in one house, to
know when the Liverpool steamer, _City of Pride_, would be in.
Conjectures proving unsatisfactory and uncertain, the whole family took
to studying the marine lists in the daily papers; and when everybody
else had looked them over, the last one of the family did it again with
extra care; lest by some singular coincidence the letters forming the
_City of Pride_ might have escaped the eyes so keen set to find them.
The paper grew better than a novel. It furnished a great deal of matter
for conversation, besides; for all the steamers which had got in were
talked over, with their dates of sailing, and number of days on the
passage; with each of which the times, certain and probable, of the
_City of Pride_ were compared. Then there was the question, whether
Aunt Candy might have changed her mind at the last minute, and waited
for another steamer; and the reports of the weather lately experienced
at sea were anxiously read and put alongside of the weather lately
experienced at Shadywalk.
Preparations in the house went on diligently; whatever might help it to
make a better impression, or afford greater comfort to the expected
guests, was carefully done. Mrs. Englefield even talked of getting a
new stair-carpet, but contented herself with having the old one taken
up and put down again, the stairs washed, and the stair-rods
brightened; the spare room, the large corner chamber looking to the
north and west, was scrupulously swept and dusted; furniture rubbed;
little white knitted mats laid on the dressing-table; the chintz
curtains taken down and put up again; a new nice chamber set of white
china was bought, for the pitcher of the old set had an ugly nick in it
and looked shabby; the towel rack was filled with white napery; the
handsomest Marseilles quilt was spread on the bed; the stove was
blackened and polished. It looked "very respectable," Anne said, when
all was done.
What private preparations went on, besides, on the part of the girls,
it would be hard to say. Maria worked hard at her braiding--that was
open to anybody's observation; but there were less obvious flutings and
ironings down in the kitchen, and adjusting of ribbons and flowers in
secret consultations up-stairs. And one piece of care was made public
by Maria, who announced that Letty had trimmed her old bonnet three
times over before she would be suited.
"Very well," said Letty, contentedly. "I should like to know who would
wear an old thing when he could have a new; and mine is like new now."
"Things can't be new always," said Matilda.
"What then?" her sisters asked, laughing.
"Then it must be respectable for them to be old, sometimes."
"Respectable! Not very pleasant, when they are to be set alongside of
things as new and nice as they can be. I like to be as good as anybody,
for my part."
"Mamma," said Matilda, "do you know there is a great hole in the door
mat?"
"It is worn out a great deal too soon," said Mrs. Englefield; "I shall
tell Mr. Hard that his goods do not last; to be sure, you children do
kick it to pieces with the snow."
"But, mamma, I should think you might get another, and let that one go
to the kitchen."
"And then, wouldn't you like me to buy a new hall cloth? there is very
nearly a hole in that."
"Oh yes, mamma!"
"I cannot do it, children. I am not as rich as your Aunt Candy. You
must be contented to let things be as they are."
The girls seemed to take it as a grave fact, to judge by their faces.
"And I think all this is very foolish talking and feeling. People are
not any better for being rich."
"But they are a great deal happier," said Letitia.
"I don't know, I am sure. I never was tried. I think you had better put
the thought out of your heads. I should be sorry if you were not as
happy as your cousin, and with as much reason."
"Mamma's being sorry doesn't help the matter," said Letitia, softly. "I
know I should be happier if I had what I want. It is just nonsense to
say I should not. And mamma would herself."
That evening, the end of the week it was, the newspaper rewarded the
first eyes that looked at its columns, with the intelligence that the
_City of Pride_ had been telegraphed. She would be in that night. And
the list of passengers duly showed the names of Mrs. Candy and
daughter. The family could hardly wait over Sunday now. Monday
morning's train, they settled it, would bring the travellers. Sunday
was spent in a flutter. But, however, that Monday, as well as that
Sunday, was a lost day. The washing was put off, and a special dinner
cooked, in vain. The children stayed at home and did not go to school,
and did nothing. Nobody did anything to speak of. To be sure, there was
a great deal of running up and down stairs; setting and clearing
tables; going to and from the post-office; but when night came, the
house and everything in it was just where the morning had found them;
only, all the humanity in it was tired with looking out of windows.
"That's the worst of expecting people!" Mrs. Englefield observed, as
she wearily put herself in an arm-chair, and Letitia drew the window
curtains. "You never know what to do, and the thing you do is sure to
be the wrong thing. Here Judith might as well have done her washing as
not; and now it's to do to-morrow, when we don't want it in the way,
and it will be in the way."
"Don't you think they will come to-night, mamma?" said Matilda.
"I don't know, I am sure. I know no more than you do. How can I tell?
Only don't ask me any more questions."
"Would you have tea yet, mamma?" said Letitia.
"There's a question, now! I tell you, don't ask me. Just when you like."
"There's no train due for a good while, mamma; they _couldn't_ come for
two or three hours. I think we had better have tea."
So she went off to prepare it, just as Matilda who had put her face
outside of the window curtain, proclaimed that somebody was coming to
the door.
"Only one person though, mamma. Mamma! it's Miss Redwood--Mr.
Richmond's Miss Redwood."
"It wanted but that!" Mrs. Englefield exclaimed, with a sort of
resigned despair. "Let her in, Matilda. I locked the door."
The person who followed Matilda to the sitting-room was a slim woman,
in black costume, neither new nor fashionable. Indeed, it had no such
pretensions; for the fashion at that time was for small bonnets, but
Miss Redwood's shadowed her face with a reminiscence of the
coal-scuttle shapes, once worn many years before. The face under the
bonnet was thin and sharp-featured; yet a certain delicate softness of
skin saved it from being harsh; there was even a little peachy bloom on
the cheeks. The eyes were soft and keen at once; at least there was no
want of benevolence in them, while their glance was swift and shrewd
enough, and full of business activity.
"Miss Redwood, how do you do? I am glad to see you. Do sit down," was
Mrs. Englefield's salutation, made without rising.
"How do you do, Mis' Englefield? Why--seems as if you was expectin'
folks here?"
"Just what we are doing; and it is some of the hardest work one can do."
"Depends on who you expect, seems to me. And I guess 'tain't harder
work than what I've been doing to-day. I've been makin' soap. Got it
done, too. And 'tain't to do agin till this time next year comes round."
"Can you make enough at once for the whole year? I cannot."
"'Spects you use a passel, don't ye?"
"Of course--in so large a family. But you're a great hand for soap,
Miss Redwood, if folks say true?"
"Cellar ain't never out of it," said Miss Redwood, shaking her head.
"It's strong, mine is; that's where it is. You see I've my own leach
sot up, and there's lots o' ashes; the minister, he likes to burn wood,
and I like it, for it gives me my ley; and I don't have no trouble with
it; the minister, he saws it and splits it and chops it, and then when
all's done he brings it in, and he puts it on. All I have to do is to
get my ashes. I did think, when I first come, and the minister he told
me he calculated to burn wood in his room, I did think I should give
up. 'Why sir,' says I, 'it'll take a load o' wood a day, to fill that
ere chimney; and I hate to see a chimney standin' empty with two or
three sticks a makin' believe have a fire in the bottom of it.
Besides,' says I, 'stoves is a sight cleaner and nicer, Mr. Richmond,
and they don't smoke nor nothin', and they're always ready.' 'I'll take
care of the fire,' says he, 'if you'll take care of the ashes.' Well,
it had to be; but I declare I thought I should have enough to do to
take care of the ashes; a-flyin' over everything in the world as they
would, and nobody but my two hands to dust with; but I do believe the
minister's wood burns quieter than other folks', and somehow it don't
fly nor smoke nor nothin', and the room keeps decent."
"Your whole house is as neat as a pin. But you have no children there
to put it out of order, Miss Redwood."
"Guess we do," said the minister's housekeeper quietly; "there ain't
any sort o' thing in the village but the minister has it in there by
turns. There ain't any sort o' shoes as walks, not to speak of boots,
that don't go over my carpets and floors; little and big, and brushed
and unbrushed. I tell you, Mis' Englefield, they're goin' in between
them two doors all the week long."
"I don't know how you manage them, I'm sure."
"Well, _I_ don't," said the housekeeper. "The back is fitted to the
burden, they say; and I always _did_ pray that if I had work to do, I
might be able to do it; and I always was, somehow. And it's a
first-rate place to go and warm your feet, when the minister is out,"
she added after a pause.
"What?" said Mrs. Englefield, laughing.
"The minister's fire, to be sure, that I was talkin' about. Of course,
I have to go in to see it's safe, when he ain't there; and sometimes I
think it's cheaper to sit down and watch it than to be always runnin'."
"Mr. Richmond was a lucky man when he got you for a housekeeper," said
Mrs. Englefield.
"Well, I don't know," said Miss Redwood, contemplatively, with rather a
sweet look on her old face. "I 'spose I might as well say I was a lucky
woman when I got his house to keep. It come all by chance, too, you may
say----"
"Mamma, tea is ready," Maria here interrupted.
"Miss Redwood, will you come down and have tea with us?"
"No; but what I come to ask was somethin' different. I was so taken up
with my soap-kettle all day, I just forgot somethin' more important,
and didn't make no new risin'; and I hain't got none to-night for the
minister's bread. I know you're one of the folks that likes sweet
bread, Mis' Englefield, and has it; and I've come to beg a cup o' your
risin'."
One of the girls was sent for the article, and Mrs. Englefield went on.
"The minister's an easy man to live with, I suppose; isn't he?"
"What sort do you mean by that, Mrs. Englefield?"
"Why! I mean he is easily suited, and don't give more trouble than can
be helped, and don't take it hard when things go wrong.
"Things don't go wrong, fur's I know," said Miss Redwood. "Not with
him, nor with me."
"Easily pleased, isn't he?"
"When folks do just what they'd ought to do, he _is_," said the
housekeeper with some energy. "I have no sort of patience, for my part,
with the folks that are pleased when they hadn't ought to be pleased."
"But isn't that what Mr. Richmond preaches to us all the time? that we
ought to be pleased with everybody?"
"Why, no, mamma!" said Matilda.
"I thought he did."
"I take it t'other way," Miss Redwood observed. "It comes close, it
does, some of the minister's talk; but I always think, if I had a right
to be better pleased with myself, maybe other folks' onesidedness
wouldn't worry me. I'll do as much for you, next time, Miss Letty," she
said, rising to take what that young lady had brought her. And
therewith away she went.
"Well, we have got off with our lives this time," said Mrs. Englefield.
"Now, girls, let us have tea."
"Mamma, I believe here they are this minute," said Matilda. "The
omnibus is stopping."
It was declared to be impossible; but nevertheless found true. The
omnibus was certainly at the door, backing down upon the side walk; and
two figures did get out of it and came through the little courtyard to
the house. And then all doubts were resolved; Mrs. Candy was in the
arms of her sister, and the cousins were looking at each other.
That is, as soon as people could get their wrappings off. Letty and
Maria were assiduous in their endeavours to relieve Miss Clarissa of
her hood and furs and the cloakings and mufflings which a night ride
had rendered necessary; while Anne waited upon her aunt; and
impressions were forming and opinions taking ground, under all the
confused chatter about the journey, the train, the omnibus, and the
_City of Pride;_ opinions and impressions which were likely enough to
get turned topsy-turvy in another day or two; but for the present
nobody knew that.
"And here is somebody who says nothing!" Mrs. Candy remarked, stooping
down to touch Matilda's hair with a light finger.
"Tilly does the thinking for the family," said Mrs. Englefield. "Now do
come down and have some tea."
"Down? Where are we going?" said Mrs. Candy. "Your house stands on the
ground level, I noticed."
"Oh, we have a very nice basement; and just for eating, you know, it
does not make much difference where you are--and it is so much more
convenient, being near the kitchen."
"In Germany we used to take our meals in the open air a great deal,"
Mrs. Candy went on, as the party filed down the narrow stairs.
"In the open air! Not at this season?"
"Well, not with the thermometer at zero," said Mrs. Candy, laughing a
little. "Nor at quite so high a temperature as you have here!"
The room down-stairs was bright enough, and looked cheerful, with its
well-spread table and tea-urn; but it was low, and full of close stove
heat. The travellers got as far from the source of this as the limits
of the table would let them, and presently begged for an open door. But
Mrs. Englefield's tea was good; and very soon the family talk began to
move naturally. Mrs. Candy pleased her nieces. A fine-looking and also
a kind-looking woman, with a good figure, well clothed in a handsome
travelling dress; a gold watch and chain; and an easy, good-humoured,
and at the same time, sensible air and way of talking. It was not
difficult to get acquainted with her; she met all advances more than
half way; and her talk even that first evening was full of amusement
and novelty for the young people. It was less easy to know what to
think of Clarissa. Her cousins held a consultation about her that night
before going to sleep.
"She looks as old as Letty."
"But she isn't. Oh, she don't, either."
"She's well looking; don't you think so?"
"I'll tell you what I think," said Matilda. "She's beau-ti-ful."
"I don't think _so_," said Letty; "but she's an uncommon looking girl."
"How old _is_ she?"
"She is sixteen."
"Well! Maria's only half a year younger than that."
"She hasn't said three words yet; so I cannot tell what she is," Anne
remarked.
"She didn't like going down into the basement," said Letty.
"How do you know?"
"I know she didn't!"
"I should like to know where she would go; there is no other place,"
said Maria.
"I suppose that is just what she didn't like," said Letitia.
"There might be, though," Matilda began again. "If mamma would open the
back room behind the parlour, and move the table and things up
there,--I think it would be a great deal pleasanter."
"That's like Matilda!" the other girls exclaimed in chorus.
"Well, I _don't_ think that basement room is pleasant," said the girl.
"I never did. I am always glad to get out of it."
"And now, I suppose, you will be taking all Clarissa's dainty ways, in
addition to your own!" said Letitia. "I wonder what will become of the
rest of us."
"What dainty ways has Clarissa?" Matilda inquired.
"You can see for yourself. She doesn't like the heat of a stove; and
she must look at her watch to see what time it is, though the clock was
right opposite to her."
"I am sure I would look at a watch, if I had it," Matilda added.
"And did you see what travelling gloves she wore?"
"Why not?" said Matilda.
"Why not, of course! you will have no eyes for any one shortly but
Clarissa Candy; I can see it. But she is a member of the Church, isn't
she?"
"What if she is?" said Matilda. "Mamma read that in one of Aunt Candy's
letters, I remember."
"We'll see what Mr. Richmond will say to her. Maria reports that he
does not like red flowers; I wonder what he will think of some other
things."
"That is only Maria's nonsense," Matilda insisted. "I know Mr. Richmond
likes red flowers; he has got a red lily in his room."
"In his room--oh yes! but not in people's bonnets, you know; nor in
their heads; if they are Christians."
"I can't imagine what people's being Christians has to do with red
flowers," said Matilda. "Besides, Clarissa hadn't any flowers about her
at all. I don't know what you are talking of."
"Didn't you see her gold chain, though, that hung round her neck?"
"Her watch was on that. Mayn't Christians wear gold chains? What
nonsense you do talk, Letitia!"
"I shouldn't want to be a Christian if I thought I couldn't wear
anything," Maria remarked.
"Nor would I," said Letitia. "So I advise you, my dears, to be a little
careful how you join Bands and such things. You may find that Mr.
Richmond is not just the sort of Christian you want to be."
The conclave broke up, having reached a termination of general
dissatisfaction common to such conclaves. Maria went to bed grumbling.
Matilda was as usual silent.
The next day, however, found all the family as bright as itself. It was
a cold day in January; snow on the ground; a clear, sharp sunshine
glittering from white roofs and fence tops and the banks of snow heaped
against the fences, and shining on twigs and branches of the bare
trees; coming into houses with its cheery and keen look at everything
it found, as if bidding the dark sides of things, and the dusty
corners, to change their characters and be light and fair. In the
basement the family gathered for breakfast in happy mood, ready to be
pleased with each other; so pleasure was the order of the day. Pleasure
had a good deal to feed on, too; for after the long breakfast was over
and the conversation had adjourned to the parlour, there came the
bestowing of presents which Clarissa had brought for her friends. And
they were so many and so satisfactory, that the criticisms of the past
night were certainly for the present forgotten; Letitia forgave her
cousin her daintiness, and Maria overlooked the gold watch. Matilda as
usual said little, beyond the civil, needful words, which that little
girl always spoke gracefully.
"You are a character, my dear, I see," her aunt observed, drawing
Matilda to her side caressingly.
"What is that, Aunt Candy?"
"Well, I don't know, my dear," her aunt answered, laughing; "you put me
to define and prove my words, and you bring me into difficulty. I
think, however, I shall be safe in saying, that a 'character' is a
person who has his own thoughts."
"But doesn't everybody?"
"Have his own thoughts? No, my dear; the majority have the thoughts of
other people."
"How can they, Aunt Candy?"
"Just by not thinking for themselves. It saves a great deal of trouble."
"But we all think for ourselves," said Matilda.
"Do we? Reflect a little. Don't _some_ of you think like other people?
about ways of doing, and acting, and dressing, for instance?"
"Oh yes. But, Aunt Candy, if people think for themselves, _must_ they
do unlike other people?"
"If they follow out their thoughts, they must, child."
"That suits Matilda then," said her sister Anne.
"Well, it is very nice for a family to have one character in it," said
Mrs. Candy.
"But, Aunt Candy, isn't Clarissa a character too?"
"I don't know, Tilly; I really have not found it out, if she is. Up to
this time she always thinks as I think. Now she has given you the
tokens of remembrance she has brought home for you; what do you think
_I_ have got?"
"O aunt, nothing more!" exclaimed Anne.
"Clarissa and I are two people, if neither of us is a character,
however," said Mrs. Candy. "Her gifts are not my gifts. But mine shall
be different from hers. And if there is more than one character among
us, I should like to find it out; and this will do it."
So saying, she fetched out her purse and presented to each of her
sister's children a bank-note for twenty-five dollars.
Mrs. Englefield exclaimed and protested. But Mrs. Candy laid her hand
on her sister's mouth, and declared she must please herself in her own
way.
"What do you want us to do with this, Aunt Candy?" Matilda inquired in
a sort of contemplative wonder.
"Just whatever will please you, will please each of you, best. Only
that. That is my condition, girls, if I may call it so. You are not to
spend that money for any claims of duty or conscience; but simply in
that way which will afford you the highest pleasure."
Thanks were warm and gratification very high; and in the best mood in
the world the new relations sat down to talk to each other and study
each other for the remainder of the day. Clarissa pleased her cousins.
She was undoubtedly extremely pretty, with big, brown, honest eyes,
that gave a good full look into the face she was speaking to; beautiful
hair a little lighter in colour, and great sweetness of outline and
feature. Yet she was reserved; very quiet; very self-possessed--to a
degree that almost carried an air of superiority in the minds of her
cousins. Those large brown eyes of hers would be lifted swiftly to the
face of some one speaking, and then go down again, with no sign of
agreeing or disagreeing--indeed, with no sign of her thought at all;
but she _had_ thoughts of course; why should she not show them, as her
cousins did? It was almost supercilious, to the fancy of Anne and
Letitia; Matilda and Maria were fascinated. Then her hands were more
delicate than those of Mrs. Englefield's children; and there were one
or two costly rings on them. Anne and Letty did not understand their
value, but nevertheless even they could guess that they belonged to a
superior description of jewellery from that which was displayed beneath
the glass cases of Mr. Kurtz the watchmaker of Shadywalk. Then
Clarissa's dress was of fine quality, and made beautifully, and her
little gold watch with its chain "put a finish upon it," Anne said. A
little hair necklace with a gold clasp was round her neck besides; and
her comb was real tortoise-shell. Clarissa was dainty, there was no
doubt; but her sweet mouth was grave and modest; her words were few;
her manners were very kindly and proper; and her cousins on the whole
were obliged to approve her.