THE MULTIPLICATION TABLE.
My life at Magnolia might be said to begin when I came down
stairs that evening. My aunt and Miss Pinshon were sitting in
the parlour, in the light of a glorious fire of light wood and
oak sticks. Miss Pinshon called me to her at once; inquired
where I had been; informed me I must not for the future take
such diversion without her leave first asked and obtained; and
then put me to reading aloud, that she might see how well I
could do it. She gave me a philosophical article in a magazine
for my proof piece; it was full of long words that I did not
know and about matters that I did not understand. I read
mechanically, of course; trying with all my might to speak the
long words right, that there might be no room for correction;
but Miss Pinshon's voice interrupted me again and again. I
felt cast away in a foreign land; further and further from
the home feeling every minute; and it seemed besides as if the
climate had some power of petrifaction. I could not keep
Medusa out of my head. It was a relief at last when the tea
was brought in. Miss Pinshon took the magazine out of my hand.
"She has a good voice, but she wants expression," was her
remark.
"I could not understand what she was reading," said my aunt
Gary.
"Nor anybody else," said Preston. "How are you going to give
expression, when there is nothing to express?"
"That is where you feel the difference between a good reader
and one who is not trained," said my governess. "I presume
Daisy has never been trained."
"No, not in anything," said my aunt. "I dare say she wants a
good deal of it."
"We will try " said Miss Pinshon.
It all comes back to me as I write, that beginning of my
Magnolia life. I remember how dazed and disheartened I sat at
the tea-table, yet letting nobody see it; how Preston made
violent efforts to change the character of the evening; and
did keep up a stir that at another time would have amused me.
And when I was dismissed to bed, Preston came after me to the
upper gallery and almost broke up my power of keeping quiet.
He gathered me in his arms, kissed me and lamented over me,
and denounced ferocious threats against "Medusa;" while I in
vain tried to stop him. He would not be sent away, till he had
come into my room and seen that the fire was burning and the
room warm, and Margaret ready for me.
With Margaret there was also an old coloured woman, dark and
wrinkled, my faithful old friend Mammy Theresa; but indeed I
could scarcely see her just then, for my eyes were full of big
tears when Preston left me; and I had to stand still before
the fire for some minutes before I could fight down the fresh
tears that were welling up and let those which veiled my
eyesight scatter away. I was conscious how silently the two
women waited upon me. I had a sense even then of the sympathy
they were giving. I knew they served me with a respect which
would have done for an Eastern princess; but I said nothing
hardly, nor they, that night.
If the tears came when I was alone, so did sleep too at last;
and I waked up the next morning a little revived. It was a
cool morning! and my eyes opened to see Margaret on her knees
making my fire. Two good oak sticks were on the fire dogs, and
a heap of light wood on the floor. I watched her piling and
preparing, and then kindling the wood with a splinter of light
wood which she lit in the candle. It was all very strange to
me. The bare painted and varnished floor; the rugs laid down
here and there; the old cupboards in the wall; the unwonted
furniture. It did not feel like home. I lay still, until the
fire blazed up and Margaret rose to her feet, and seeing my
eyes open dropped her curtsey.
"Please, missis, may I be Miss Daisy's girl?"
"I will ask aunt Gary," I answered; a good deal surprised.
"Miss Daisy is the mistress. We all belong to Miss Daisy. It
will be as she say."
I thought to myself that very little was going to be "as I
said." I got out of bed, feeling terribly slim-hearted, and
stood in my night-gown before the fire, trying to let the
blaze warm me. Margaret did her duties with a zeal of devotion
that reminded me of my old June.
"I will ask aunt Gary," I said; "and I think she will let you
build my fire, Margaret."
"Thank'e, ma'am. First rate fires, I'll make, Miss Daisy.
We'se all so glad Miss Daisy come to Magnoly."
Were they? I thought, and what did she mean by their all
"belonging to me"? I was not accustomed to quite so much
deference. However, I improved my opportunity by asking
Margaret my question of the day before about church. The girl
half laughed.
"Aint any church big enough to hold all de people," she said.
"Guess we coloured folks has to go widout."
"But where _is_ the church?" I said.
"Aint none, Miss Daisy. People enough to make a church full
all himselves."
"And don't you want to go?"
"Reckon it's o' no consequence, missis. It's a right smart
chance of a way to Bo'mbroke, where de white folks' church is.
Guess they don't have none for poor folks nor niggers in dese
parts."
"But Jesus died for poor people," I said, turning round upon
my attendant. She met me with a gaze I did not understand, and
said nothing. Margaret was not like my old June. She was a
clear mulatto, with a fresh colour and rather a handsome face;
and her eyes, unlike June's little anxious, restless, almond
shaped eyes, were liquid and full. She went on care- fully
with the toilet duties which busied her; and I was puzzled.
"Did you never hear of Jesus?" I said presently. "Don't you
know that He loves poor people?"
"Reckon He loves rich people de best, Miss Daisy," the girl
said, in a dry tone.
I faced about to deny this, and to explain how the Lord had a
special love and care for the poor. I saw that my hearer did
not believe me. "She had heerd so," she said.
The dressing-bell sounded long and loud, and I was obliged to
let Margaret go on with my dressing; but in the midst of my
puzzled state of mind, I felt childishly sure of the power of
that truth, of the Lord's love, to break down any hardness and
overcome any coldness. Yet, "how shall they hear without a
preacher?" and I had so little chance to speak.
"Then, Margaret," said I at last, "is there no place where you
can go to hear about the things in the Bible?"
"No, missis; I never goes."
"And does not anybody, except Darry when he goes with the
carriage?"
"Can't, Miss Daisy; it's miles and miles; and no place for
niggers neither."
"Can you read the Bible, Margaret?"
"Guess not, missis; we's too stupid; aint good for coloured
folks to read."
"Does _nobody_, among all the people, read the Bible?" said I,
once more stopping Margaret in my dismay.
"Uncle Darry he does," said the girl; "and he do 'spoun
some; but I don't make no count of his 'spoundations."
I did not know quite what she meant; but I had no time for
anything more. I let her go, locked my door and kneeled down;
with the burden on my heart of this new revelation; that there
were hundreds of people under the care of my father and
mother, who were living without church and without Bible, in
desperate ignorance of everything worth knowing. If I papa had
only been at Magnolia with me! I thought I could have
persuaded him to build a church and let somebody come and
teach the people. But now what could I do? And I asked the
Lord, what could I do? but I did not see the answer.
Feeling the question on my two shoulders, I went down stairs.
To my astonishment, I found the family all gathered in solemn
order; the house servants at one end of the room, my aunt,
Miss Pinshon and Preston at the other, and before my aunt a
little table with books. I got a seat as soon as I could, for
it was plain that something was waiting for me. Then my aunt
opened the Bible and read a chapter, and followed it with a
prayer read out of another book. I was greatly amazed at the
whole proceeding. No such ceremony was ever gone through at
Melbourne; and certainly nothing had ever given me the notion
that my aunt Gary was any more fond of sacred things than the
rest of the family.
"An excellent plan," said Miss Pinshon, when we had risen from
our knees and the servants had filed off.
"Yes," my aunt said, somewhat as if it needed an apology;
"it was the custom in my father's and grandfather's time; and
we always keep it up. I think old customs always should be
kept up."
"And do you have the same sort of thing on Sundays, for the
out-of-door hands?"
"What?" said my aunt. It was somewhat more abrupt than polite;
but she probably felt that Miss Pinshon was a governess.
"There were only the house servants gathered this morning."
"Of course; part of them."
"Have you any similar system of teaching for those who are
outside? I think you told me they have no church to go to."
"I should like to know what "system" you would adopt," said my
aunt, "to reach seven hundred people."
"A church and a minister would not be a bad thing."
"Or we might all turn missionaries," said Preston; "and go
among them with bags of Bibles round our necks. We might all
turn missionaries."
"Colporteurs," said Miss Pinshon.
Then I said in my heart, "I will be one." But I went on eating
my breakfast and did not look at anybody; only I listened with
all my might.
"I don't know about that" said my aunt. "I doubt whether a
church and a minister would be beneficial."
"Then you have a nation of heathen at your doors," said Miss
Pinshon.
"I don't know but they are just as well off," said my aunt. "I
doubt if more light would do them any good. They would not
understand it."
"They must be very dark, if they could not understand light,"
said my governess.
"Just as people that are very light cannot understand
darkness," said Preston.
"I think so," my aunt went on. "Our neighbour Colonel Joram,
down below here at Crofts, will not allow such a thing as
preaching or teaching on his plantation. He says it is bad for
them. We always allowed it; but I don't know."
"Colonel Joram is a heathen himself, you know, mother," said
Preston. "Don't hold _him_ up."
"I will hold him up for a gentleman, and a very successful
planter," said Mrs. Gary. "No place is better worked or
managed than Crofts. If the estate of Magnolia were worked and
kept as well, it would be worth half as much again as it ever
has been. But there is the difference of the master's eye. My
brother-in-law never could be induced to settle at Magnolia,
nor at his own estates either. He likes it better in the cold
North."
Miss Pinshon made no remark whatever in answer to this
statement; and the rest of the talk at the breakfast-table was
about rice.
After breakfast my school life at Magnolia began. It seems as
if all the threads of my life there were in a hurry to get
into my hand. Ah, I had a handful soon! But this was the
fashion of my first day with my governess. All the days were
not quite so bad; however it gave the key of them all.
Miss Pinshon bade me come with her to the room she and my aunt
had agreed should be the schoolroom. It was the book room of
the house, though it had hardly books enough to be called a
library. It had been the study or private room of my
grandfather; there was a leather-covered table with an old
bronze standish; some plain book-cases; a large escritoire; a
terrestrial globe; a thermometer and barometer; and the rest
of the furniture was an abundance of chintz-covered chairs and
lounges. These were very easy and pleasant for use; and long
windows opening on the verandah looked off among the evergreen
oaks and their floating grey drapery; the light in the room
and the whole aspect of it was agreeable. If Miss Pinshon had
not been there! But she was there, with a terrible air of
business; setting one or two chairs in certain positions by a
window, and handling one or two books on the table. I stood
meek and helpless, expectant.
"Have you read any history, Daisy?"
I said no; then I said yes, I had; a little.
"What?"
"A little of the history of England last summer."
"Not of your own country?"
"No, ma'am."
"And no ancient history?"
"No, ma'am."
"You know nothing of the Division of the nations, of course?"
I answered, nothing. I had no idea what she meant; except that
England, and America, and France, were different, and of
course divided. Of Peleg the son of Eber and the brother of
Joktan, I then knew nothing.
"And arithmetic is something you do not understand," pursued
Miss Pinshon. "Come here and let me see how you can write."
With trembling, stiff little fingers I feel them yet I
wrote some lines under my governess' eye.
"Very unformed," was her comment. "And now, Daisy, you may sit
down there in the window and study the multiplication table.
See how much of it you can get this morning."
Was it to be a morning's work? My heart was heavy as lead. At
this hour, at Melbourne, my task would have been to get my
flat hat and rush out among the beds of flowers; and a little
later, to have up Loupe and go driving whither I would, among
the meadows and cornfields. Ah, yes; and there was Molly who
might be taught, and Juanita who might be visited; and Dr.
Sandford who might come like a pleasant gale of wind into the
midst of whatever I was about. I did not stop to think of them
now, though a waft of the sunny air through the open window
brought a violent rush of such images. I tried to shut them
out of my head and gave myself wistfully to "three times one
is three; three times two is six." Miss Pinshon helped me by
closing the window. I thought she might have let so much
sweetness as that come into the multiplication table. However
I studied its threes and fours steadily for some time dry;
then my attention flagged. It was very uninteresting. I had
never in all my life till then been obliged to study what gave
me no pleasure. My mind wandered, and then my eyes wandered,
to where the sunlight lay so golden under the live oaks. The
wreaths of grey moss stirred gently with the wind. I longed to
be out there. Miss Pinshon's voice startled me.
"Daisy, where are your thoughts?"
I hastily brought my eyes and wits home and answered, "Out
upon the lawn, ma'am."
"Do you find the multiplication table there?"
It was so needless to answer! I was mute. I would have come to
the rash conclusion that nature and mathematics had nothing to
do with each other.
"You must learn to command your attention," my governess went
on. "You must not let it wander. That is the first lesson you
have to learn. I shall give you mathematics till you have
learnt it. You can do nothing without attention."
I bent myself to the threes and fours again. But I was soon
weary; my mind escaped; and without turning my eyes off my
book, it swept over the distance between Magnolia and
Melbourne, and sat down by Molly Skelton to help her in
getting her letters. It was done and I was there. I could hear
the hesitating utterances; I could see the dull finger tracing
its way along the lines. And then would come the reading _to_
Molly, and the interested look of waiting attention, and once
in a while the strange softening of the poor hard face. From
there my mind went off to the people around me at Magnolia;
were there some to be taught here perhaps? and could I get at
them? and was there no other way could it be there was no
other way but by my weak little voice through which some of
them were ever to learn about my dear Saviour? I had got very
far from mathematics, and my book fell. I heard Miss Pinshon's
voice.
"Daisy, come here."
I obeyed, and came to the table, where my governess was
installed in the leather chair of my grandfather. She always
used it.
"I should like to know what you are doing."
"I was thinking " I said.
"Did I give you thinking to do?"
"No, ma'am; not of that kind."
"What kind was it?"
"I was thinking, and remembering "
"Pray, what were you remembering?"
"Things at home and other things."
"Things and things," said Miss Pinshon. "That is not a very
elegant way of speaking. Let me hear how much you have
learned."
I began. About all of the "threes" was on my tongue; the rest
had got mixed up hopelessly with Molly Skelton and teaching
Bible reading. Miss Pinshon was not pleased.
"You must learn attention," she said. "I can do nothing with
you until you have succeeded in that. You _must_ attend. Now I
shall give you a motive for minding what you are about. Go and
sit down again and study this table till you know the threes
and the fours and the fives and the sixes, perfectly. Go and
sit down."
I sat down, and the life was all out of me. Tears in the first
place had a great mind to come, and would put themselves
between me and the figures in the multiplication table. I
governed them back after a while. But I could not study to
purpose. I was tired and down-spirited; I had not energy left
to spring to my task and accomplish it. Over and over again I
tried to put the changes of the numbers in my head; it seemed
like writing them in sand. My memory would not take hold of
them; could not keep them; with all my trying I grew only more
and more stupefied and fagged, and less capable of doing what
I had to do. So dinner came, and Miss Pinshon said I might get
myself ready for dinner and after dinner come back again to my
lesson. The lesson must be finished before anything else was
done.
I had no appetite. Preston was in a fume of vexation, partly
roused by my looks, partly by hearing that I was not yet free.
He was enraged beyond prudent speaking, but Miss Pinshon never
troubled herself about his words; and when the first and
second courses were removed, told me I might go to my work.
Preston called to me to stay and have some fruit; but I went
on to the study, not caring for fruit or for anything else. I
felt very dull and miserable. Then I remembered that my
governess probably did care for some fruit and would be
delayed a little while; and then I tried what is the best
preparation for study or anything else. I got down on my
knees, to ask that help which is as willingly given to a child
in her troubles as to the general of an army. I prayed that I
might be patient and obedient and take disagreeable things
pleasantly and do my duty in the multiplication table. And a
breath of rest came over my heart, and a sort of perfume of
remembered things which I had forgotten; and it quite changed
the multiplication table to think that God had given it to me
to learn, and so that some good would certainly come of
learning it; at least the good of pleasing Him. As long as I
dared I staid on my knees; then I was strong for the fives
and sixes.
But it was not quick work; and though my patience did not flag
again nor my attention fail, the afternoon was well on the way
before I was dismissed. I had then permission to do what I
liked. Miss Pinshon said she would not go to walk that day; I
might follow my own pleasure.
I must have been very tired; for it seemed to me there was
hardly any pleasure left to follow. I got my flat and went
out. The sun was westing; the shadows stretched among the
evergreen oaks; the outer air was sweet. I had tried to find
Preston first, in the house; but he was not to be found; and
all alone I went out into the sunshine. It wooed me on.
Sunshine and I were always at home together. Without knowing
that I wanted to go anywhere, some secret attraction drew my
steps towards the dell where I had seen Darry. I followed one
of several well beaten paths that led towards the quarters
through the trees, and presently came out upon the stables
again. All along the dell the sunshine poured. The ground was
kept like a pleasure ground, it was so neat; the grass was as
clean as the grass of a park; the little stone houses
scattered away down towards the river, with shade trees among
them, and oaks lining the sides of the dell. I thought surely
Magnolia was a lovely place! if only my father and mother had
been there. But then, seeing the many cottages, my trouble of
the morning pressed upon me afresh. So many people, so many
homes, and the light of the Bible not on them, nor in them?
And, child as I was, and little as I knew, I knew the name of
Christ too unspeakably precious, for me to think without a
sore heart, that all these people were without what was the
jewel of my life. And they my mother's servants! my father's
dependents! What could I do?
The dell was alone in the yellow sunlight which poured over
the slope from the west; and I went musing on till getting to
the corner of the stables I saw Darry just round the corner
grooming a black horse. He was working energetically and
humming to himself as he worked a refrain which I learned
afterwards to know well. "All I could make out was, I'm going
home" several times repeated. I came near before he saw me,
and he started; then bid me good evening and "hoped I found
Magnolia a pleasant place."
Since I have grown older I have read that wonderful story of
Mrs. Stowe's _Uncle Tom_; he reminded me of Darry then, and now
I never think of the one without thinking of the other. But
Darry, having served a different class of people from Uncle
Tom's first owners, had a more polished style of manners,
which I should almost call courtly; and he was besides a man
of higher natural parts, and somewhat more education. But much
commerce in the Court which is above all earthly dignities, no
doubt had more to do with his peculiarities than any other
cause.
I asked him what he was singing about home? and where his home
was? He turned his face full on me, letting me see how grave
and gentle his eye was, and at the same time there was a
wistful expression in it that I felt. "Home aint nowheres
here, missie," he said. "I'm 'spectin' to go by and by."
"Do you mean home up _there?_" said I, lifting my finger towards
the sky. Darry fairly laughed.
" 'Spect don't want no other home, missie. Heaven good enough."
I stood watching him as he rubbed down the black horse,
feeling surely that he and I would be friends.
"Where is your home here, Darry?"
"I got a place down there, little missie not fur."
"When you have done that horse, will you show me your place? I
want to see where you live."
"Missie want to see Darry's house?" said he, showing his white
teeth. "Missie shall see what she mind to. I allus keeps
Saddler till the last, 'cause he's ontractable.".
The black horse was put in the stable, and I followed my black
groom down among the lines of stone huts, to which the working
parties had not yet returned. Darry's house was one of the
lowest in the dell, out of the quadrangle, and had a glimpse
of the river. It stood alone, in a pretty place, but something
about it did not satisfy me. It looked square and bare. The
stone walls within were rough as the stone-layer had left
them; one little four-paned window, or rather casement, stood
open; and the air was sweet; for Darry kept his place
scrupulously neat and clean. But there was not much to be
kept. A low bedstead; a wooden chest; an odd table made of a
piece of board on three legs; a shelf with some kitchen ware;
that was all the furniture. On the odd table there lay a
Bible, that had, I saw, been turned over many a time.
"Then you can read, uncle Darry," I said, pitching on the only
thing that pleased me.
"De good Lord, He give me dat happiness," the man answered
gravely.
"And you love Jesus, Darry," I said, feeling that we had
better come to an understanding as soon as possible. His
answer was an energetic
"Bress de Lord! Do Miss Daisy love Him, den?"
I would have said yes; I did say yes, I believe; but I did not
know how or why, at this question there seemed a coming
together of gladness and pain which took away my breath. My
head dropped on Darry's little window-sill, and my tears
rushed forth, like the head of water behind a broken mill-dam.
Darry was startled and greatly concerned. He wanted to know if
I was not well if I would send him for "su'thing" I could
only shake my head and weep. I think Darry was the only
creature at Magnolia before whom I would have so broken down.
But somehow I felt safe with Darry. The tears cleared away
from my voice after a little; and I went on with my inquiries
again. It was a good chance.
"Uncle Darry, does no one else but you read the Bible?"
He looked dark and troubled. "Missie sees de folks for most
part got no learnin'. Dey no read, sure."
"Do you read the Bible to them, Darry?"
"Miss Daisy knows, dere aint no great time. Dey's in de field
all day, most days, and dey hab no time for to hear."
"But Sundays? " I said.
"Do try," he said, looking graver yet. "Me do 'tempt
su'thin'. But missie knows, de Sabbat' be de only day de
people hab, and dey tink mostly of oder tings."
"And there is no church for you all to go to?"
"No, missis; no church."
There was a sad tone in this answer. I did not know how to go
on. I turned to something else.
"Uncle Darry, I don't think your home looks very comfortable."
Darry almost laughed at that. He said it was good enough;
would last very well a little while longer. I insisted that it
was not _comfortable_. It was cold.
"Sun warm, Miss Daisy. De good Lord, He make His sun warm. And
dere be fires enough."
"But it is very empty," I said. "You want something more in
it, to make it look nice."
"It never empty, Miss Daisy, when de Lord Hisself be here. And
He not leave His chil'n alone. Miss Daisy know dat?"
I stretched forth my little hand and laid it in Darry's great
black palm. There was an absolute confidence established
between us.
"Uncle Darry" I said, "I do love him but sometimes, I want
to see papa! "
And therewith my self-command was almost gone. I stood with
full eyes and quivering lips, my hand still in Darry's, who on
his part was speechless with sympathy.
"De time pass quick, and Miss Daisy see her pa'," he said at
last.
I did not think the time passed quick. I said so.
"Do little missie ask de Lord for help?" Darry said, his eyes
by this time as watery as mine. "Do Miss Daisy know, it nebber
lonesome where de Lord be? He so good."
I could not stand any more. I pulled away my hand and stood
still, looking out of the window and seeing nothing, till I
could make myself quiet. Then I changed the subject and told
Darry I should like to go and see some of the other houses
again. I know now, I can see, looking back, how my childish
self-control and reserve made some of those impulsive natures
around me regard me with something like worshipful reverence.
I felt it then, without thinking of it or reasoning about it.
From Darry, and from Margaret, and from Mammy Theresa, and
from several others, I had a loving, tender reverence, which
not only felt for me as a sorrowful child, but bowed before me
as something of higher and stronger nature than themselves.
Darry silently attended me now from house to house of the
quarters; introducing and explaining and doing all he could to
make my progress interesting and amusing. Interested I was;
but most certainly not amused. I did not like the look of
things any better than I had done at first. The places were
not "nice;" there was a coarse, uncared-for air of everything
within, although the outside was in such well dressed
condition. No litter on the grass, no, untidiness of walls or
chimneys; and no seeming of comfortable homes when the door
was opened. The village, for it amounted to that, was almost
deserted at that hour; only a few crooning old women on the
sunny side of a wall, and a few half-grown girls, and a
quantity of little children, depending for all the care they
got upon one or the other of these.
"Haven't all these little babies got mothers?" I asked.
"For sure, Miss Daisy dey's got modders."
"Where _are_ the mothers of all these babies, Darry?" I asked.
"Dey's in de field, Miss Daisy. Home d'rectly."
"Are they working like _men_, in the fields?" I asked.
"Dey's all at work," said Darry.
"Do they do the same work as the men?"
"All alike, Miss Daisy." Darry's answers were not hearty.
"But don't their little babies want them?" said I, looking at
a group of girls in whose hands were some very little babies
indeed. I think Darry made me no answer.
"But if the men and women both work out," I went on, "papa
must give them a great deal of money; I should think they
would have things more comfortable, Darry. Why don't they have
little carpets, and tables and chairs, and cups and saucers?
Hardly anybody has teacups and saucers. Have you _got_ any,
uncle Darry?"
" 'Spect I'se no good woman to brew de tea for her ole man,"
said Darry; but I thought he looked at me very oddly.
"Couldn't you make it for yourself, uncle Darry?"
"Poor folks don't live just like de rich folks," he answered
quietly, after a minute's pause. "And I don't count fur to
want no good t'ing, missie."
I went on with my observations; my questions I thought I would
not push any further at that time. I grew more and more
dissatisfied, that my father's workpeople should live in no
better style and in no better comfort. Even Molly Skelton had
a furnished and appointed house, compared with these little
bare stone huts; and mothers that would leave their babies for
the sake of more wages must, I thought, be very barbarous
mothers. This was all because, no doubt, of having no church
and no Bible. I grew weary. As we were going up the dell
towards the stables, I suddenly remembered my pony; and I
asked to see him.
Darry was much relieved, I fancy, to have me come back to a
child's sphere of action. He had out the fat little grey pony
and talked it over to me with great zeal. It came into my head
to ask for a saddle.
"Dere be a saddle" Darry said doubtfully "Massa Preston he
done got a saddle dis very day. Dunno where massa Preston can
be."
I did not heed this. I begged to have the saddle and be
allowed to try the pony. Now Preston had laid a plan that
nobody but himself should have the pleasure of first mounting
me; but I did not know of this plan. Darry hesitated, I saw,
but he had not the power to refuse me. The saddle was brought
out, put on, and carefully arranged.
"Uncle Darry, I want to get on him may I ?"
"O' course Miss Daisy do what she mind to. Him bery good,
only some lazy."
So I was mounted. Preston, Miss Pinshon, the servants'
quarters, the multiplication table, all were forgotten and
lost in a misty distance. I was in the saddle for the first
time, and delight held me by both hands. My first moment on
horseback! If Darry had guessed it he would have been terribly
concerned; but, as it happened, I knew how to take my seat; I
had watched my mother so often mounting her horse that every
detail was familiar to me; and Darry naturally supposed I knew
what I was about after I was in my seat. The reins were a
little confusing; however, the pony walked off lazily with me
to the head of the glen, and I thought he was an improvement
upon the old pony chaise. Finding myself coming out upon the
avenue, which I did not wish, it became necessary to get at
the practical use of my bridle. I was at some pains to do it;
finally I managed to turn the pony's head round, and we walked
back in the same sober style we had come up. Darry stood by
the stables, smiling and watching me; down among the quarters
the children and old people turned out to look after me; I
walked down as far as Darry's house, turned and came back
again. Darry stood ready to help me dismount; but it was too
pleasant. I went on to the avenue. Just as I turned there, I
caught, as it seemed to me, a glimpse of two ladies, coming
towards me from the house. Involuntarily I gave a sharper pull
at the bridle, and I suppose touched the pony's shoulder with
the switch Darry had put into my hand. The touch so woke him
up, that he shook off his laziness and broke into a short
galloping canter to go back to the stables. This was a new
experience. I thought for the first minute that I certainly
should be thrown off; I seemed to have no hold of anything,
and I was tossed up and down on my saddle in a way that boded
a landing on the ground every next time.
I was not timid with animals, whatever might be true of me in
other relations. My first comfort was finding that I did not
fall off; then I took heart, and settled myself in the saddle
more securely, gave myself to the motion, and began to think I
should like it by and by. Nevertheless, for this time I was
willing to stop at the stables; but the pony had only just
found how good it was to be moving, and he went by at full
canter. Down the dell, through the quarters, past the
cottages, till I saw Darry's house ahead of me, and began to
think how I _should_ get round again. At that pace I could not.
Could I stop the fellow? I tried, but there was not much
strength in my arms; one or two pulls did no good, and one or
two pulls more did no good; pony cantered on, and I saw we
were making straight for the river. I knew then I must stop
him; I threw so much good will into the handling of my reins
that, to my joy, the pony paused, let himself be turned about
placidly, and took up his leisurely walk again. But now I was
in a hurry, wanting to be dismounted before anybody should
come; and I was a little triumphant, having kept my seat and
turned my horse. Moreover, the walk was not good after that
stirring canter. I would try it again. But it took a little
earnestness now and more than one touch of my whip before the
pony would mind me. Then he obeyed in good style and we
cantered quietly up to where Darry was waiting. The thing was
done. The pony and I had come to an understanding. I was a
rider from that time, without fear or uncertainty. The first
gentle pull on the bridle was obeyed and I came to a stop in
front of Darry and my cousin Preston.
I have spent a great deal of time to tell of my ride. Yet not
more than its place in my life then deserved. It was my last
half-hour of pleasure for I think many a day. I had cantered
up the slope, all fresh in mind and body, excited and glad
with my achievement and with the pleasure of brisk motion; I
had forgotten everybody and everything disagreeable, or what I
did not forget I disregarded; but just before I stopped I saw
what sent another thrill than that of pleasure tingling
through all my veins. I saw Preston, who had but a moment
before reached the stables, I saw him lift his hand with a
light riding switch he carried, and draw the switch across
Darry's mouth. I shall never forget the coloured man's face,
as he stepped back a pace or two. I understood it afterwards;
I _felt_ it then. There was no resentment; there was no fire of
anger, which I should have expected; there was no manly and no
stolid disregard of what had been done. There was instead a
slight smile, which to this day I cannot bear to recall; it
spoke so much of patient and helpless humiliation; as of one
wincing at the galling of a sore and trying not to show he
winced. Preston took me off my horse, and began to speak. I
turned away from him to Darry, who now held two horses,
Preston having just dismounted; and I thanked him for my
pleasure, throwing into my manner all the studied courtesy I
could. Then I walked up the dell beside Preston, without
looking at him.
Preston scolded. He had prepared a surprise for me, and was
excited by his disappointment at my mounting without him. Of
course I had not known that; and Darry, who was in the secret,
had not known how to refuse me. I gave Preston no answer to
his charges and reproaches. At last I said I was tired and I
wished he would not talk.
"Tired! you are something besides tired," he said.
"I suppose I am," I answered with great deliberation.
He was eager to know what it was; but then we came out upon
the avenue and were met flush by my aunt and Miss Pinshon. My
aunt inquired, and Preston, who was by no means cool yet,
accused me about the doings of the afternoon. I scarcely
heeded one or the other; but I did feel Miss Pinshon's taking
my I hand and leading me home all the rest of the way. It was
not that I wanted to talk to Preston, for I was not ready to
talk to him; but this holding me like a little child was
excessively distasteful to my habit of freedom. My governess
would not loose her clasp when we got to the house; but kept
fast hold and led me up stairs to my own room.