RUTH HALL:
A
DOMESTIC TALE
OF
THE PRESENT TIME.
BY
FANNY FERN.
NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY MASON BROTHERS.
1855.
ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854,
BY MASON BROTHERS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District
of New York.
STEREOTYPED BY
THOMAS B. SMITH,
216 William St., N. Y.
PRINTED BY
JOHN A. GRAY,
95 & 97 Cliff St.
PREFACE.
TO THE READER.
I present you with my first continuous story. I do not dignify it by the
name of "A novel." I am aware that it is entirely at variance with all
set rules for novel-writing. There is no intricate plot; there are no
startling developments, no hair-breadth escapes. I have compressed into
one volume what I might have expanded into two or three. I have avoided
long introductions and descriptions, and have entered unceremoniously
and unannounced, into people's houses, without stopping to ring the
bell. Whether you will fancy this primitive mode of calling, whether you
will like the company to which it introduces you, or--whether you will
like the book at all, I cannot tell. Still, I cherish the hope that,
somewhere in the length and breadth of the land, it may fan into a
flame, in some tried heart, the fading embers of hope, well-nigh
extinguished by wintry fortune and summer friends.
FANNY FERN.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE EVE BEFORE THE BRIDAL--RUTH'S LITTLE ROOM--A RETROSPECTIVE
REVERIE 15
CHAPTER II.
THE WEDDING--A GLIMPSE OF THE CHARACTER OF RUTH'S BROTHER
HYACINTH 23
CHAPTER III.
THE NEW HOME--SOLILOQUY OF THE MOTHER-IN-LAW 25
CHAPTER IV.
THE FIRST INTERVIEW WITH THE MOTHER-IN-LAW 28
CHAPTER V.
RUTH'S REFLECTIONS ON THE INTERVIEW 32
CHAPTER VI.
A BIT OF FAMILY HISTORY 34
CHAPTER VII.
THE FIRST-BORN 39
CHAPTER VIII.
THE NURSE 41
CHAPTER IX.
FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS OF THE MOTHER-IN-LAW'S CHARACTER 44
CHAPTER X.
RUTH'S COUNTRY HOME 47
CHAPTER XI.
RUTH AND DAISY 50
CHAPTER XII.
THE OLD FOLKS FOLLOW THE YOUNG COUPLE--AN ENTERTAINING
DIALOGUE 52
CHAPTER XIII.
THE OLD LADY'S SURREPTITIOUS VISIT TO RUTH'S, AND HER
ENCOUNTER WITH DINAH 55
CHAPTER XIV.
THE OLD LADY SEARCHES THE HOUSE--WHAT SHE FINDS 59
CHAPTER XV.
THE OLD DOCTOR MEDDLES WITH HARRY'S FARMING ARRANGEMENTS 63
CHAPTER XVI.
LITTLE DAISY'S REVERIE--HER STRANGE PLAYFELLOW 65
CHAPTER XVII.
"PAT" MUTINIES 67
CHAPTER XVIII.
A GROWL FROM THE OLD LADY 69
CHAPTER XIX.
DAISY'S GLEE AT THE FIRST SLEIGH-RIDE 72
CHAPTER XX.
DAISY'S ILLNESS--THE OLD DOCTOR REFUSES TO COME 74
CHAPTER XXI.
DINAH'S WARNING--HARRY GOES AGAIN FOR THE DOCTOR 78
CHAPTER XXII.
THE OLD DOCTOR ARRIVES TOO LATE 81
CHAPTER XXIII.
"THE GLEN" DESERTED--THE OLD DOCTOR'S AND HIS WIFE'S VERSION
OF THE CAUSE OF DAISY'S DEATH--MRS. JONES GIVES HER
OPINION 85
CHAPTER XXIV.
ANNIVERSARY OF DAISY'S DEATH--RUTH'S REVERIE--LITTLE KATY'S
REQUEST 90
CHAPTER XXV.
HOTEL LIFE--A NEW FRIEND 93
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE FALL OF THE LEAF--HARRY'S ILLNESS--THE LONELY WATCHER 97
CHAPTER XXVII.
ARRIVAL OF THE OLD DOCTOR AND HIS WIFE 102
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE OLD DOCTOR'S ANNOUNCEMENT--HARRY'S DEATH 105
CHAPTER XXIX.
HYACINTH'S SENSIBILITIES SHOCKED 110
CHAPTER XXX.
MISS SKINLIN 114
CHAPTER XXXI.
HARRY'S FUNERAL 120
CHAPTER XXXII.
A SERVANT'S DEVOTION 123
CHAPTER XXXIII.
BICKERINGS OF THE FATHER AND FATHER-IN-LAW--DISPUTE ABOUT THE
SUPPORT OF THE CHILDREN 125
CHAPTER XXXIV.
RUTH RECEIVES A VISIT FROM HER FATHER--HE INSISTS ON HER
GIVING UP HER CHILDREN TO THE OLD DOCTOR--RUTH'S REFUSAL 128
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE OLD LADY, ENRAGED, PROPOSES A COMPROMISE--MR. ELLET IS
FORCED TO ACCEDE 132
CHAPTER XXXVI.
RUTH'S NEW LODGINGS--SPECULATIONS OF THE BOARDERS 139
CHAPTER XXXVII.
MR. DEVELIN'S COUNTING-HOUSE--THE OLD DOCTOR'S LETTER 142
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
LITTLE KATY MOURNS FOR HER PAPA 146
CHAPTER XXXIX.
MR. DEVELIN DEMANDS HARRY'S CLOTHES OF RUTH--THE WEDDING VEST 148
CHAPTER XL.
RUTH'S APPLICATION FOR NEEDLE-WORK 151
CHAPTER XLI.
DISGUST OF RUTH'S FASHIONABLE FRIENDS 155
CHAPTER XLII.
CONVERSATION IN MRS. MILLET'S KITCHEN 158
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE BOUQUET 161
CHAPTER XLIV.
MRS. MILLET AND THE WOODEN MAN 164
CHAPTER XLV.
LITTLE KATY VISITS HER GRANDPA AND MEETS WITH A CHARACTERISTIC
RECEPTION--THE STRANGE GENTLEMAN 166
CHAPTER XLVI.
A PEEP FROM RUTH'S CHAMBER WINDOW--KATY'S RETURN 171
CHAPTER XLVII.
BOARDING-HOUSE REVOLUTION--MRS. SKIDDY'S FLIGHT--MR. SKIDDY IN
THE CAPACITY OF DRY NURSE 176
CHAPTER XLVIII.
A NEW IDEA--THE MILLETS EXHIBIT THEIR FRIENDSHIP AND DELICACY 184
CHAPTER XLIX.
RUTH RESOLVES TO BECOME A TEACHER 189
CHAPTER L.
RUTH APPLIES FOR A PRIMARY SCHOOL 191
CHAPTER LI.
THE EXAMINATION BY THE SCHOOL COMMITTEE 192
CHAPTER LII.
MRS. SKIDDY'S UNEXPECTED RETURN 198
CHAPTER LIII.
SKIDDY'S INTERCEPTED HEGIRA--HIS INCARCERATION--HIS FINAL
ESCAPE 203
CHAPTER LIV.
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM 209
CHAPTER LV.
RUTH'S NEW LANDLADY 215
CHAPTER LVI.
THE STRANGE LODGER--RUTH RESOLVES TO RESORT TO HER PEN TO
OBTAIN A SUBSISTENCE--SHE APPLIES TO HER BROTHER HYACINTH
FOR ADVICE AND ASSISTANCE--HIS CHARACTERISTIC REPLY 219
CHAPTER LVII.
THE OLD LADY RESORTS TO STRATAGEM, AND CARRIES HER POINT 224
CHAPTER LVIII.
MR. ELLET EXHIBITS HIS USUAL FATHERLY INTEREST IN RUTH'S
AFFAIRS 228
CHAPTER LIX.
RUTH APPLIES FOR EMPLOYMENT AT NEWSPAPER OFFICES 230
CHAPTER LX.
THE BREAD OF LIFE 235
CHAPTER LXI.
A CHAPTER WHICH MAY BE INSTRUCTIVE 237
CHAPTER LXII.
RUTH OBTAINS EMPLOYMENT--ILLNESS OF NETTIE--THE STRANGE LODGER
PROVES USEFUL 240
CHAPTER LXIII.
A PEEP INTO THE OLD DOCTOR'S COTTAGE 245
CHAPTER LXIV.
A GLIMPSE OF COMING SUCCESS 251
CHAPTER LXV.
LITTLE NETTIE'S SORROWS--CHEERING LETTERS 257
CHAPTER LXVI.
KATY'S FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL--THE TOWN-PUMP CONTROVERSY--CRUELTY
OF KATY'S GRANDPARENTS 262
CHAPTER LXVII.
MR. JOHN WALTER 267
CHAPTER LXVIII.
A LETTER FROM MR. WALTER, AND ITS EFFECT 271
CHAPTER LXIX.
RUTH ENGAGES TO WRITE SOLELY FOR THE HOUSEHOLD MESSENGER 278
CHAPTER LXX.
WHAT MR. LESCOM SAID 282
CHAPTER LXXI.
A SHARP CORRESPONDENCE 287
CHAPTER LXXII.
OFFERS OF MARRIAGE AND OFFERS TO PUBLISH 292
CHAPTER LXXIII.
WHAT MR. TIBBETTS SAID ABOUT RUTH'S WRITING FOR THE HOUSEHOLD
MESSENGER 298
CHAPTER LXXIV.
SOLILOQUY OF A SUB-EDITOR 302
CHAPTER LXXV.
MR. WALTER'S VISIT 309
CHAPTER LXXVI.
THE PHRENOLOGICAL EXAMINATION 318
CHAPTER LXXVII.
PUBLICATION DAY COMES AT LAST 330
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
HYACINTH CORNERED 334
CHAPTER LXXIX.
MR. LEWIS ENLIGHTENED 338
CHAPTER LXXX.
MORE LETTERS 342
CHAPTER LXXXI.
FRESHET IN THE DOCTOR'S CELLAR--"HAMS" IN DANGER OF A TOTAL
WRECK--SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF RUTH--RESCUE OF LITTLE KATY 348
CHAPTER LXXXII.
ARRIVAL OF KATY WITH HER MOTHER, MR. WALTER, AND MR. GREY, AT
NEW LODGINGS; DINNER AND LETTERS--CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN
THE CHILDREN 354
CHAPTER LXXXIII.
THE LITTLE FAMILY ALONE AT THEIR NEW QUARTERS--NETTIE IN THE
CONFESSION BOX--KATY'S MIRTH 367
CHAPTER LXXXIV.
KATY AND NETTIE COMPARE NOTES--RUTH DREAMS--MIDNIGHT
CONFLAGRATION--RESCUE OF THE LITTLE FAMILY BY JOHNNY GALT 372
CHAPTER LXXXV.
TEA-TABLE TALK BETWEEN "THE WOODEN MAN" AND HIS SPOUSE--LETTER
FROM "OUR JOHN" 378
CHAPTER LXXXVI.
THE OLD LADY EXTINGUISHED IN A CONVERSATION WITH HER
NEIGHBORS, WHO ANNOUNCE THE ASTONISHING FACT THAT 'FLOY'
IS RUTH 383
CHAPTER LXXXVII.
CONVERSATION BETWEEN RUTH'S FATHER AND MR. JONES REGARDING
RUTH'S LITERARY DEBUT 388
CHAPTER LXXXVIII.
INTERVIEW BETWEEN THE LITERARY BOOKSELLER AND MR. WALTER 391
CHAPTER LXXXIX.
ARRIVAL OF MR. WALTER--BANK STOCK AND BANK CERTIFICATE 394
CHAPTER XC.
THE LAST VISIT TO HARRY'S GRAVE 398
CHAPTER I.
The old church clock rang solemnly out on the midnight air. Ruth
started. For hours she had sat there, leaning her cheek upon her hand,
and gazing through the open space between the rows of brick walls, upon
the sparkling waters of the bay, glancing and quivering 'neath the
moon-beams. The city's busy hum had long since died away; myriad
restless eyes had closed in peaceful slumber; Ruth could not sleep. This
was the last time she would sit at that little window. The morrow would
find her in a home of her own. On the morrow Ruth would be a bride.
Ruth was not sighing because she was about to leave her father's roof,
(for her childhood had been anything but happy,) but she was vainly
trying to look into a future, which God has mercifully veiled from
curious eyes. Had that craving heart of her's at length found its ark
of refuge? Would clouds or sunshine, joy or sorrow, tears or smiles,
predominate in her future? Who could tell? The silent stars returned her
no answer. Would a harsh word ever fall from lips which now breathed
only love? Would the step whose lightest footfall now made her heart
leap, ever sound in her ear like a death-knell? As time, with its
ceaseless changes, rolled on, would love flee affrighted from the bent
form, and silver locks, and faltering footstep? Was there no talisman to
keep him?
"Strange questions," were they, "for a young girl!" Ah, but Ruth could
remember when she was no taller than a rosebush, how cravingly her
little heart cried out for love! How a careless word, powerless to wound
one less sensitive, would send her, weeping, to that little room for
hours; and, young as she was, life's pains seemed already more to her
than life's pleasures. Would it _always_ be so? Would she find more
thorns than roses in her _future_ pathway?
Then, Ruth remembered how she used to wish she were beautiful,--not that
she might be admired, but that she might be loved. But Ruth was "very
plain,"--so her brother Hyacinth told her, and "awkward," too; she had
heard that ever since she could remember; and the recollection of it
dyed her cheek with blushes, whenever a stranger made his appearance in
the home circle.
So, Ruth was fonder of being alone by herself; and then, they called her
"odd," and "queer," and wondered if she would "ever make anything;" and
Ruth used to wonder, too; and sometimes she asked herself why a sweet
strain of music, or a fine passage in a poem, made her heart thrill, and
her whole frame quiver with emotion?
The world smiled on her brother Hyacinth. He was handsome, and gifted.
He could win fame, and what was better, love. Ruth wished he would love
her a little. She often used to steal into his room and "right" his
papers, when the stupid housemaid had displaced them; and often she
would prepare him a tempting little lunch, and carry it to his room, on
his return from his morning walk; but Hyacinth would only say, "Oh, it
is you, Ruth, is it? I thought it was Bridget;" and go on reading his
newspaper.
Ruth's mother was dead. Ruth did not remember a great deal about
her--only that she always looked uneasy about the time her father was
expected home; and when his step was heard in the hall, she would say in
a whisper, to Hyacinth and herself, "Hush! hush! your father is coming;"
and then Hyacinth would immediately stop whistling, or humming, and
Ruth would run up into her little room, for fear she should, in some
unexpected way, get into disgrace.
Ruth, also, remembered when her father came home and found company to
tea, how he frowned and complained of headache, although he always ate
as heartily as any of the company; and how after tea he would stretch
himself out upon the sofa and say, "I think I'll take a nap;" and then,
he would close his eyes, and if the company commenced talking, he would
start up and say to Ruth, who was sitting very still in the corner,
"_Ruth_, don't make such a noise;" and when Ruth's mother would whisper
gently in his ear, "Wouldn't it be better, dear, if you laid down up
stairs? it is quite comfortable and quiet there," her father would say,
aloud, "Oh yes, oh yes, you want to get rid of me, do you?" And then her
mother would say, turning to the company, "How very fond Mr. Ellet is of
a joke!" But Ruth remembered that her mother often blushed when she said
so, and that her laugh did not sound natural.
After her mother's death, Ruth was sent to boarding-school, where she
shared a room with four strange girls, who laid awake all night, telling
the most extraordinary stories, and ridiculing Ruth for being such an
old maid that she could not see "where the laugh came in." Equally
astonishing to the unsophisticated Ruth, was the demureness with which
they would bend over their books when the pale, meek-eyed widow,
employed as duenna, went the rounds after tea, to see if each inmate was
preparing the next day's lessons, and the coolness with which they would
jump up, on her departure, put on their bonnets and shawls, and slip out
at the side-street door to meet expectant lovers; and when the pale
widow went the rounds again at nine o'clock, she would find them
demurely seated, just where she left them, apparently busily conning
their lessons! Ruth wondered if _all_ girls were as mischievous, and
if fathers and mothers ever stopped to think what companions their
daughters would have for room-mates and bed-fellows, when they sent
them away from home. As to the Principal, Madame Moreau, she contented
herself with sweeping her flounces, once a day, through the recitation
rooms; so it was not a difficult matter, in so large an establishment,
to pass muster with the sub-teachers at recitations.
Composition day was the general bugbear. Ruth's madcap room-mates
were struck with the most unqualified amazement and admiration at the
facility with which "the old maid" executed this frightful task. They
soon learned to put her services in requisition; first, to help them out
of this slough of despond; next, to save them the necessity of wading in
at all, by writing their compositions for them.
In the all-absorbing love affairs which were constantly going on
between the young ladies of Madame Moreau's school and their respective
admirers, Ruth took no interest; and on the occasion of the unexpected
reception of a bouquet, from a smitten swain, accompanied by a copy of
amatory verses, Ruth crimsoned to her temples and burst into tears,
that any one could be found so heartless as to burlesque the "awkward"
Ruth. Simple child! She was unconscious that, in the freedom of that
atmosphere where a "prophet out of his own country is honored," her
lithe form had rounded into symmetry and grace, her slow step had become
light and elastic, her eye bright, her smile winning, and her voice soft
and melodious. Other bouquets, other notes, and glances of involuntary
admiration from passers-by, at length opened her eyes to the fact, that
she was "plain, awkward Ruth" no longer. Eureka! She had arrived at the
first epoch in a young girl's life,--she had found out her power! Her
manners became assured and self-possessed. _She_, Ruth, could inspire
love! Life became dear to her. There was something worth living
for--something to look forward to. She had a motive--an aim; she should
_some_ day make somebody's heart glad,--somebody's hearth-stone bright;
somebody should be proud of her; and oh, how she _could_ love that
somebody! History, astronomy, mathematics, the languages, were all
pastime now. Life wore a new aspect; the skies were bluer, the earth
greener, the flowers more fragrant;--her twin-soul existed somewhere.
When Ruth had been a year at school, her elegant brother Hyacinth came
to see her. Ruth dashed down her books, and bounded down three stairs at
a time, to meet him; for she loved him, poor child, just as well as if
he were worth loving. Hyacinth drew languidly back a dozen paces, and
holding up his hands, drawled out imploringly, "kiss me if you insist
on it, Ruth, but for heaven's sake, don't tumble my dickey." He also
remarked, that her shoes were too large for her feet, and that her
little French apron was "slightly askew;" and told her, whatever else
she omitted, to be sure to learn "to waltz." He was then introduced to
Madame Moreau, who remarked to Madame Chicchi, her Italian teacher, what
a very _distingué_ looking person he was; after which he yawned several
times, then touched his hat gracefully, praised "the very superior air
of the establishment," brushed an imperceptible atom of dust from his
beaver, kissed the tips of his fingers to his demonstrative sister, and
tiptoed Terpsichoreally over the academic threshold.
In addition to this, Ruth's father wrote occasionally when a term-bill
became due, or when his tradesmen's bills came in, on the first of
January; on which occasion an annual fit of poverty seized him, an
almshouse loomed up in perspective, he reduced the wages of his cook
two shillings, and advised Ruth either to get married or teach school.
Three years had passed under Madame Moreau's roof; Ruth's schoolmates
wondering the while why she took so much pains to bother her head with
those stupid books, when she was every day growing prettier, and all
the world knew that it was quite unnecessary for a pretty woman to be
clever. When Ruth once more crossed the paternal threshold, Hyacinth
levelled his eye-glass at her, and exclaimed, "'Pon honor, Ruth, you've
positively had a narrow escape from being handsome." Whether old Mr.
Ellet was satisfied with her physical and mental progress, Ruth had no
means of knowing.
* * * * *
And now, as we have said before, it is the night before Ruth's bridal;
and there she sits, though the old church bell has long since chimed the
midnight hour, gazing at the moon, as she cuts a shining path through
the waters; and trembling, while she questions the dim, uncertain
future. Tears, Ruth? Have phantom shapes of terror glided before those
gentle prophet eyes? Has death's dark wing even now fanned those girlish
temples?