street with her niece and bowed to one and another of her
acquaintances. She was entirely careless of what any one should say,
but she was brimful of excitement, and answered several of Nan's
questions entirely wrong. The old town was very pleasant that Sunday
morning. The lilacs were in full bloom, and other early summer flowers
in the narrow strips of front-yards or the high-fenced gardens were
in blossom too, and the air was full of sweetness and delight. The
ancient seaport had gathered for itself quaint names and treasures; it
was pleased with its old fashions and noble memories; its ancient
bells had not lost their sweet voices, and a flavor of the past
pervaded everything. The comfortable houses, the elderly citizens, the
very names on the shop signs, and the worn cobblestones of the streets
and flagstones of the pavements, delighted the young stranger, who
felt so unreasonably at home in Dunport. The many faces that had been
colored and fashioned by the sea were strangely different from those
which had known an inland life only, and she seemed to have come a
great deal nearer to foreign life and to the last century. Her heart
softened as she wondered if her father knew that she was following his
boyish footsteps, for the first time in her life, on that Sunday
morning. She would have liked to wander away by herself and find her
way about the town, but such a proposal was not to be thought of, and
all at once Miss Nancy turned up a narrow side street toward a
high-walled brick church, and presently they walked side by side up
the broad aisle so far that it seemed to Nan as if her aunt were
aiming for the chancel itself, and had some public ceremony in view,
of a penitential nature. They were by no means early, and the girl was
disagreeably aware of a little rustle of eagerness and curiosity as
she took her seat, and was glad to have fairly gained the shelter of
the high-backed pew as she bent her head. But Miss Prince the senior
seemed calm; she said her prayer, settled herself as usual, putting
the footstool in its right place and finding the psalms and the
collect. She then laid the prayer-book on the cushion beside her and
folded her hands in her lap, before she turned discreetly to say
good-morning to Miss Fraley, and exchange greetings until the
clergyman made his appearance. Nan had taken the seat next the pew
door, and was looking about her with great interest, forgetting
herself and her aunt as she wondered that so dear and quaint a place
of worship should be still left in her iconoclastic native country.
She had seen nothing even in Boston like this, there were so many
antique splendors about the chancel, and many mural tablets on the
walls, where she read with sudden delight her own family name and the
list of virtues which had belonged to some of her ancestors. The dear
old place! there never had been and never could be any church like
it; it seemed to have been waiting all her life for her to come to say
her prayers where so many of her own people had brought their sins and
sorrows in the long years that were gone. She only wished that the
doctor were with her, and the same feeling that used to make her watch
for him in her childhood until he smiled back again filled all her
loving and grateful heart. She knew that he must be thinking of her
that morning; he was not in church himself, he had planned a long
drive to the next town but one, to see a dying man, who seemed to be
helped only by this beloved physician's presence. There had been some
talk between Dr. Leslie and Nan about a medicine which might possibly
be of use, and she found herself thinking about that again and again.
She had reminded the doctor of it and he had seemed very pleased. It
must be longer ago than yesterday since she left Oldfields, it already
counted for half a lifetime.
One listener at least was not resentful because the sermon was neither
wise nor great, for she had so many things to think of; but while she
was sometimes lost in her own thoughts, Nan stole a look at the thinly
filled galleries now and then, and at one time was pleased with the
sight of the red-cheeked cherubs which seemed to have been caught like
clumsy insects and pinned as a sort of tawdry decoration above the
tablets where the Apostle's Creed and the Ten Commandments were
printed in faded gilt letters. The letter s was made long in these
copies and the capitals were of an almost forgotten pattern, and after
Nan had discovered her grandfather's name in the prayer-book she held,
and had tried again to listen to the discourse, she smiled at the
discovery of a familiar face in one of the wall pews. It somehow gave
her a feeling of security as being a link with her past experiences,
and she looked eagerly again and again until this old acquaintance,
who also was a stranger and a guest in Dunport, happened to direct a
careless glance toward her, and a somewhat dull and gloomy expression
was changed for surprised and curious recognition. When church was
over at last Miss Prince seemed to have a great deal to say to her
neighbor in the next pew, and Nan stood in her place waiting until her
aunt was ready. More than one person had lingered to make sure of a
distinct impression of the interesting stranger who had made one of
the morning congregation, and Nan smiled suddenly as she thought that
it might seem proper that she and her aunt should walk down the aisle
together as if they had been married, or as if the ceremony were
finished which she had anticipated as they came in. And Miss Prince
did make an admirable exit from the church, mustering all her
self-possession and taking stately steps at her niece's side, while
she sometimes politely greeted her acquaintances. There were
flickering spots of color in her cheeks when they were again in the
sun-shiny street.
"It is really the first day this summer when I have needed my
parasol," said Aunt Nancy, as she unfurled the carefully preserved
article of her wardrobe and held it primly aloft. "I am so sorry that
our rector was absent this morning. I suppose that you have attended
an Episcopal church sometimes; I am glad that you seem to be familiar
with the service;" to which Nancy replied that she had been confirmed
while she was first at boarding-school, and this seemed to give her
aunt great satisfaction. "Very natural and proper, my dear," she said.
"It is one thing I have always wished when I thought of you at serious
moments. But I was persuaded that you were far from such influences,
and that there would be nothing in your surroundings to encourage your
inherited love of the church."
"I have always liked it best," said Nan, who seemed all at once to
grow taller. "But I think one should care more about being a good
woman than a good Episcopalian, Aunt Nancy."
"No doubt," said the elder woman, a little confused and dismayed,
though she presently rallied her forces and justly observed that the
rules of the church were a means to the end of good living, and
happily, before any existing differences of opinion could be
discovered, they were interrupted by a pleasant-faced young man, who
lifted his hat and gracefully accepted his introduction to the younger
Miss Prince.
"This is Mr. George Gerry, Anna, one of my young friends," smiled Aunt
Nancy, and saying, as she walked more slowly, "You must come to see
us soon, for I shall have to depend upon the younger people to make my
niece's stay agreeable."
"I was looking forward to my Sunday evening visit," the wayfarer said
hesitatingly; "you have not told me yet that I must not come;" which
appeal was only answered by a little laugh from all three, as they
separated. And Miss Prince had time to be quite eloquent in her
favorite's praise before they reached home. Nan thought her first
Dunport acquaintance very pleasant, and frankly said so. This seemed
to be very gratifying to her aunt, and they walked toward home
together by a roundabout way and in excellent spirits. It seemed more
and more absurd to Nan that the long feud and almost tragic state of
family affairs should have come to so prosaic a conclusion, and that
she who had been the skeleton of her aunt's ancestral closet should
have dared to emerge and to walk by her side through the town. After
all, here was another proof of the wisdom of the old Spanish proverb,
that it takes two to make a quarrel, but only one to end it.
XVI
A JUNE SUNDAY
It was Miss Prince's custom to indulge herself by taking a long Sunday
afternoon nap in summer, though on this occasion she spoke of it to
her niece as only a short rest. She was glad to gain the shelter of
her own room, and as she brushed a little dust from her handsome silk
gown before putting it away she held it at arm's length and shook it
almost indignantly. Then she hesitated a moment and looked around the
comfortable apartment with a fierce disdain. "I wonder what gives me
such a sense of importance," she whispered. "I have been making
mistakes my whole life long, and giving excuses to myself for not
doing my duty. I wish I had made her a proper allowance, to say the
least. Everybody must be laughing at me!" and Miss Prince actually
stamped her foot. It had been difficult to keep up an appearance of
self-respect, but her pride had helped her in that laudable effort,
and as she lay down on the couch she tried to satisfy herself with the
assurance that her niece should have her rights now, and be treated
justly at last.
Miss Fraley had come in to pay a brief visit on her way to
Sunday-school just as they finished dinner, and had asked Nan to tea
the following Wednesday, expressing also a hope that she would come
sooner to call, quite without ceremony. Finding the state of affairs
so pleasant, Miss Eunice ventured to say that Nan's father had been a
favorite of her mother, who was now of uncommon age. Miss Prince
became suddenly stern, but it was only a passing cloud, which
disturbed nobody.
Nan had accepted willingly the offered apologies and gayly wished her
aunt a pleasant dream, but being wide awake she gladly made use of the
quiet time to send a letter home, and to stroll down the garden
afterward. It all seemed so unlike what she had expected, yet her
former thoughts about her aunt were much more difficult to recall as
every hour went by and made the impression of actual things more
distinct. Her fancied duty to a lonely old lady who mourned over a sad
past seemed quite quixotic when she watched this brisk woman come and
go without any hindrance of age, or, now that the first meeting was
over, any appearance of former melancholy. As our friend went down the
garden she told herself that she was glad to have come; it was quite
right, and it was very pleasant, though there was no particular use in
staying there long, and after a few days she would go away. Somehow
her life seemed a great deal larger for this new experience, and she
would try to repeat the visit occasionally. She wished to get Dunport
itself by heart, but she had become so used to giving the best of
herself to her studies, that she was a little shy of the visiting and
the tea-parties and the apparently fruitless society life of which she
had already learned something. "I suppose the doctor would say it is
good for me," said Nan, somewhat grimly, "but I think it is most
satisfactory to be with the persons whose interests and purposes are
the same as one's own." The feeling of a lack of connection with the
people whom she had met made life appear somewhat blank. She had
already gained a certain degree of affection for her aunt; to say the
least she was puzzled to account for such an implacable hostility as
had lasted for years in the breast of a person so apparently friendly
and cordial in her relations with her neighbors. Our heroine was slow
to recognize in her relative the same strength of will and of
determination which made the framework of her own character,--an
iron-like firmness of structure which could not be easily shaken by
the changes or opinions of other people. Miss Prince's acquaintances
called her a very set person, and were shy of intruding into her
secret fastnesses. There were all the traits of character which are
necessary for the groundwork of an enterprising life, but Miss Prince
seemed to have neither inherited nor acquired any high aims or any
especial and fruitful single-heartedness, so her gifts of persistence
and self-confidence had ranked themselves for the defense of a
comparatively unimportant and commonplace existence. As has been said,
she forbade, years before, any mention of her family troubles, and had
lived on before the world as if they could be annihilated, and not
only were not observable, but never had been. In a more thoughtful and
active circle of social life the contrast between her rare capacity
and her unnoticeable career would have been more striking. She stood
as a fine representative of the old school, but it could not be justly
said that she was a forward scholar, since, however sure of some of
her early lessons, she was most dull and reluctant before new ones of
various enlightening and uplifting descriptions.
Nan had observed that her aunt had looked very tired and spent as she
went up-stairs after dinner, and understood better than she had before
that this visit was moving the waters of Miss Prince's soul more
deeply than had been suspected. She gained a new sympathy, and as the
hours of the summer afternoon went by she thought of a great many
things which had not been quite plain to her, and strolled about the
garden until she knew that by heart, and had made friends with the
disorderly company of ladies-delights and periwinkles which had
cropped up everywhere, as if the earth were capable of turning itself
into such small blossoms without anybody's help, after so many years
of unvarying tuition. The cherry-trees and pear-trees had a most
venerable look, and the plum-trees were in dismal mourning of black
knots. There was a damp and shady corner where Nan found a great many
lilies of the valley still lingering, though they had some time ago
gone out of bloom in the more sunshiny garden at Oldfields. She
remembered that there were no flowers in the house and gathered a
great handful at last of one sort and another to carry in.
The dining-room was very dark, and Nan wished at first to throw open
the blinds which had been carefully closed. It seemed too early in the
summer to shut out the sunshine, but it seemed also a little too soon
to interfere with the housekeeping, and so she brought two or three
tall champagne glasses from a high shelf of the closet and filled them
with her posies, and after putting them in their places, went back to
the garden. There was a perfect silence in the house, except for the
sound of the tall clock in the dining-room, and it seemed very lonely.
She had taken another long look at her father's portrait, but as she
shut the rusty-hinged garden gate after her, she smiled at the thought
of her unusual idleness, and wondered if it need last until Tuesday,
which was the day she had fixed upon for her departure. Nan wished
that she dared to go away for a long walk; it was a pity she had not
told her aunt of a wish to see something of the town and of the
harbor-side that afternoon, but it would certainly be a little strange
if she were to disappear, and very likely the long nap would soon come
to an end. Being well taught in the details of gardening, she took a
knife from her pocket and pruned and trained the shrubs and vines, and
sang softly to herself as she thought about her next winter's study
and her plans for the rest of the summer, and also decided that she
would insist upon the doctor's going away with her for a journey when
she reached home again.
After a little while she heard her aunt open the blinds of the garden
door and call her in most friendly tones, and when she reached the
house Miss Prince was in the south parlor entertaining a
visitor,--Captain Walter Parish, who had gladly availed himself of
some trifling excuse of a business nature, which involved the signing
and sending of a paper by the early post of next day. He was going to
his daughter's to tea, and it was quite a long drive to her house, so
he had not dared to put off his errand, he explained, lest he should
be detained in the evening. But he had been also longing to take a
look at Miss Prince's guest. His wife went to another church and he
dutifully accompanied her, though he had been brought up with Miss
Prince at old St. Ann's.
"So this is my young cousin?" said the captain gallantly, and with
great simplicity and tenderness held both Nan's hands and looked full
in her face a moment before he kissed her; then to Miss Prince's great
discomposure and embarrassment he turned to the window and looked out
without saying a word, though he drew the back of his hand across his
eyes in sailor-fashion, as if he wished to make them clear while he
sighted something on the horizon. Miss Prince thought it was all
nonsense and would have liked to say so, though she trusted that her
silence was eloquent enough.
"She brings back the past," said Captain Walter as he returned
presently and seated himself where he could look at Nan as much as he
liked. "She brings back the past."
"You were speaking of old Captain Slater," reminded Miss Prince with
some dignity.
"I just came from there," said Captain Parish, with his eyes still
fixed on his young relative, though it was with such a friendly gaze
that Nan was growing fonder of him every minute. "They told me he was
about the same as yesterday. I offered to watch with him to-morrow
night. And how do you like the looks of Dunport, my dear?"
Nan answered eagerly with brightening face, and added that she was
longing to see more of it; the old wharves especially.
"Now that's good," said the captain; "I wonder if you would care
anything about taking a stroll with me in the morning. Your aunt here
is a famous housekeeper, and will be glad to get you off her hands, I
dare say."
Nan eagerly accepted, and though it was suggested that Miss Prince had
a plan for showing the town in the afternoon, she was promptly told
that there was nothing easier than taking both these pleasant
opportunities. "You would lose yourself among the old storehouses, I'm
sure, Nancy," laughed the old sailor, "and you must let me have my
way. It's a chance one doesn't get every day, to tell the old Dunport
stories to a new listener."
Some one had opened the front door, and was heard coming along the
hall. "This is very kind, George," said Miss Prince, with much
pleasure, while the captain looked a little disconcerted at his young
rival; he assured himself that he would make a long morning's cruise
of it, next day, with this attractive sightseer, and for once the
young beaux would be at a disadvantage; the girls of his own day used
to think him one of the best of their gallants, and at this thought
the captain was invincible. Mr. Gerry must take the second chance.
The blinds were open now, and the old room seemed very pleasant. Nan's
brown hair had been blown about not a little in the garden, and as she
sat at the end of the long, brass-nailed sofa, a ray of sunshine
touched the glass of a picture behind her and flew forward again to
tangle itself in her stray locks, so that altogether there was a sort
of golden halo about her pretty head. And young Gerry thought he had
never seen anything so charming. The white frock was a welcome
addition to the usually sombre room, and his eyes quickly saw the
flowers on the table. He knew instantly that the bouquet was none of
Miss Prince's gathering.
"I hope you won't think I mean to stay as much too late as I have come
too early," he laughed. "I must go away soon after tea, for I have
promised to talk with the captain of a schooner which is to sail in
the morning. Mr. Wills luckily found out that he could give some
evidence in a case we are working up."
"The collision?" asked Captain Parish, eagerly. "I was wondering
to-day when I saw the Highflyer's foremast between the buildings on
Fleet Street as I went to meeting, if they were going to let her lie
there and dry-rot. I don't think she's being taken proper care of. I
must say I hate to see a good vessel go to ruin when there's no need
of it."
"The man in charge was recommended very highly, and everything seemed
to be all right when I was on board one day this week," said young
Gerry, good-naturedly, and turned to explain to Nan that this vessel
had been damaged by collision with another, and the process of
settling the matter by litigation had been provokingly slow.
The captain listened with impatience. "I dare say she looked very well
to your eyes, but I'd rather have an old ship-master's word for it
than a young lawyer's. I haven't boarded her for some weeks; I dare
say 'twas before the snow was gone; but she certainly needed attention
then. I saw some bad-looking places in the sheathing and planking.
There ought to be a coat of paint soon, and plenty of tar carried
aloft besides, or there'll be a long bill for somebody to pay before
she's seaworthy."
"I wish you would make a careful inspection of her," said the young
man, with gratifying deference. "I don't doubt that it is necessary; I
will see that you are well satisfied for your services. Of course the
captain himself should have stayed there and kept charge, but you
remember he was sick and had to resign. He looks feeble yet. I hope
nothing will happen to him before the matter is settled up, but we are
sure of the trial in September."
"She's going to be rigged with some of your red tape, I'm afraid,"
said Captain Parish, with great friendliness. "I don't see any reason
why I can't look her over to-morrow morning, I'm obliged to you, or at
least make a beginning," and he gave a most knowing nod at Nan, as if
they would divide the pleasure. "I'll make the excuse of showing this
young lady the construction of a good-sized merchant vessel, and then
the keeper can't feel affronted. She is going to take a stroll with me
along the wharves," he concluded triumphantly. While Mr. Gerry looked
wistful for a moment, and Miss Prince quickly took advantage of a
pause in the conversation to ask if he knew whether anything pleasant
was going forward among the young people this week. She did not wish
her niece to have too dull a visit.
"Some of us are going up the river very soon," said the young man,
with eager pleasure, looking at Nan. "It would be so pleasant if Miss
Prince would join us. We think our Dunport supper parties of that sort
would be hard to match."
"The young folks will all be flocking here by to-morrow," said the
captain; and Miss Prince answered "Surely," in a tone of command,
rather than entreaty. She knew very well how the news of Nan's coming
must be flying about the town, and she almost regretted the fact of
her own previous silence about this great event. In the mean time Nan
was talking to the two gentlemen as if she had already been to her
room to smooth her hair, which her aunt looked at reproachfully from
time to time, though the sunshine had not wholly left it. The girl was
quite unconscious of herself, and glad to have the company and
sympathy of these kind friends. She thought once that if she had a
brother she would like him to be of young Mr. Gerry's fashion. He had
none of the manner which constantly insisted upon her remembering that
he was a man and she a girl; she could be good friends with him in the
same way that she had been with some Oldfields schoolfellows, and
after the captain had reluctantly taken his leave, they had a pleasant
talk about out-of-door life and their rides and walks, and were soon
exchanging experiences in a way that Miss Nancy smiled upon gladly. It
was not to be wondered at that she could not get used to so great a
change in her life. She could not feel sure yet that she no longer had
a secret, and that this was the niece whom she had so many years
dreaded and disclaimed. George Gerry had taken the niece's place in
her affections, yet here was Anna, her own namesake, who showed
plainly in so many ways the same descent as herself, being as much a
Prince as herself in spite of her mother's low origin and worse
personal traits, and the loutish companions to whom she had always
persuaded herself poor Nan was akin. And it was by no means sure that
the last of the Princes was not the best of them; she was very proud
of her brother's daughter, and was more at a loss to know how to make
excuses for being shortsighted and neglectful. Miss Prince hated to
think that Nan had any but the pleasantest associations with her
nearest relative; she must surely keep the girl's affection now. She
meant to insist at any rate upon Dunport's being her niece's home for
the future, though undoubtedly it would be hard at first to break with
the many associations of Oldfields. She must write that very night to
Dr. Leslie to thank him for his care, and to again express her regret
that Anna's misguided young mother should have placed such
restrictions upon the child's relations with her nearest of kin, and
so have broken the natural ties of nature. And she would not stop
there; she would blame herself generously and say how sorry she was
that she had been governed by her painful recollections of a time she
should now strive to forget. Dr. Leslie must be asked to come and join
his ward for a few days, and then they would settle her plans for the
future. She should give her niece a handsome allowance at any rate,
and then, as Miss Prince looked across the room and forgot her own
thoughts in listening to the young people's friendly talk, a sudden
purpose flashed through her mind. The dream of her heart began to
unfold itself slowly: could anything be so suitable, so comforting to
her own mind, as that they should marry each other?
Two days before, her pleasure and pride in the manly fellow, who was
almost as dear to her as an own son could be, would have been greatly
shocked, but Miss Prince's heart began to beat quickly. It would be
such a blessed solution of all the puzzles and troubles of her life if
she could have both the young people near her through the years that
remained, and when she died, or even before, they could live here in
the old house, and begin a new and better order of things in the place
of her own failures and shortcomings. It was all so distinct and
possible in Miss Prince's mind that only time seemed necessary, and
even the time could be made short. She would not put any hindrances
between them and their blessed decision. As she went by them to seek
Priscilla, she smoothed the cushion which Nan had leaned upon before
she moved a little nearer George Gerry in some sudden excitement of
the conversation, which had begun while the captain was still there,
and there was a needless distance between them. Then Miss Prince let
her hand rest for a minute on the girl's soft hair. "You must ask Mr.
Gerry to excuse you for a few minutes, my dear, you have been quite
blown about in the garden. I meant to join you there."
"It is a dear old garden," said Nan. "I can't help being almost as
fond of it already as I am of ours at home;" but though Aunt Nancy's
unwonted caress had been so unlike her conduct in general, this
reference to Oldfields called her to her senses, and she went quickly
away. She did not like to hear Nan speak in such loving fashion of a
house where she had no real right.
But when Mr. George Gerry was left alone, he had pleasant thoughts
come flocking in to keep him company in the ladies' stead. He had not
dreamed of such a pleasure as this; who could have? and what could
Aunt Nancy think of herself!