THE GREAT HOUSE
Of all things lovely and full of fascination in Sally's little narrow
world, everything in and about Ingleside stood far and away the highest
in her eyes.
It was her delight, her admiration, her dream by day and her dream by
night. Ingleside! With its wide-spreading mansion, its far-reaching
plantation that was, after all, but a short run for an agile child from
Slipside Row.
Had Sally known the meaning of such a word as "romance," which is a
sweet and wonderful story, or happening, or dream, she would have known
that the chief bewitchment of her life sprang from the dear romance that
to her fancy was all about fair Ingleside.
Because, from the time that she had been brought to Slipside Row, when
a bright little child of eight years, with a keen imagination and great
love for all that was tasteful and beautiful, it had become the greatest
charm she had ever known to race, whenever she could, through Lover's
Lane and Shady Path, to some part of Ingleside.
Now, when it is told that the great house, the immense garden, the
fields, stables, cabins, store-sheds, and far-reaching plantation of
Ingleside formed the mansion and estate of one Colonial "place," you
will understand that it was the home of a Southern planter.
For Maid Sally lived more than a hundred years ago, and in truth nearly
half as long again. And Slipside Row was in the smiling South, on the
border of Williamsburg, a town of the colony of Virginia. And the seat
of government for all the colonies of America was at Williamsburg in
those days. But there were few large towns anywhere in the country then.
It was common at that time for a man to own so large a place that it had
a name of its own, and was a settlement of itself. Sir Percival
Grandison, the master of Ingleside, had come from England, and as he
wanted his place to remind him of the old country, he called it
Ingleside. For in the sweet Scotch tongue, "ingleside" means "fireside,"
or ingle may mean fireplace, or chimney-corner; so you see it gave a
home feeling to the place, calling it "Ingleside."
There was a large garden before the house, so wide and deep that quite
a walk it was up the path of pebbles from the gate to the house. Here
were great flower-beds, bordered around with thick green box, or with
fragrant little pinks, or, perhaps, with tufts of white sweet alyssum.
And here were all kinds, also, of rich, old-fashioned blooms: roses of
damask, moss roses, the flush multiflora, and china rose; blush roses,
wee Scotch roses, and the sweet white garden rose; great peonies,
pink and red, sweet-william, marigolds, phlox, both pink and white,
bachelor's-buttons, columbine, oleanders, large white magnolia blossoms,
cockscomb, prim and fine, poppies, asters, portulacas, prince's-feather,
snowballs, dahlias, and lilies of many kinds.
Dear, dear! how could one ever begin to tell of the loveliness and
perfume of just one old-time garden, mignonette, fuchsias, heliotrope,
and geraniums sending out their strong, delightful tints and fragrance
with the rest?
Farther along, striped grass, mints, herbs and balsams made the air
heavy with spicy odors when the dew was on the grass.
The mansion was built on the generous, old-time plan. There were high
porches at the front, with white, fluted pillars, an enormous front
door, with a fan-window over the top, and side-lights of high, narrow
panes of glass. On the stoep, or stoop, were benches at the side,
painted white, where one might sit out in the cool of the day.
Inside, immense fireplaces told of good cheer on chilly nights, when a
bright wood fire made the big knobs on the burnished andirons, or
"fire-dogs," seem as if alive with glancing light. Great sofas, wide,
high-backed and deep, covered with tapestry or brocades, lace hangings,
wide chairs, ottomans, antimacassars, or tidies, footstools, high-backed
chairs, with seats wrought in worsted work, pier-glasses, reaching
almost from floor to ceiling, pictures, a piano, something quite new
then, a _carpet_, another new luxury, also a spinet, a kind of piano of
wiry sound, a violin, and lute, all were in the ample drawing-room.
In the hall were portraits, some very old, and swords, ancient bows and
arrows, and a few old battle scenes adorned the walls. The newels, or
posts, at the foot of the banisters, bore great carved figures of
sea-serpents and griffins, strange animals, part lion, part eagle.
The dining-room had always fresh white sand upon the floor, had also
heavy carved furniture, and against the walls were pictures of hunting
scenes, and many a pictured feast or revel.
Up-stairs were great square rooms with painted floor and home-made mats
in abundance. Bedsteads, with high posts and "testers," or canopies
overhead. Furniture, covered with chintz, looked fresh and fine, while
bedspreads, valances, or side-flounces for the beds, tester, curtains,
dressing-table, and mirror, all were made, bordered, or trimmed, with
brightly flowered chintz.
The spare room, or "parlor-chamber," was delightfully cool and pure
looking, decked out in white dimity, stiff with starch, and full of an
air of grandeur.
The cook-room of the house was at the rear of the mansion, apart from
it, and the different dishes were carried through a covered passage.
Afar down the grounds were the stables, back of them the quarters of the
black servants, and still beyond, the wide plantation or tobacco fields.
At one side of the garden, midst lawn and shrubbery, was a stone wall
bounding one part of the grounds, and close to this wall was a little
summer-house, or arbor, where the young people liked to stray of an
evening, and enjoy the cool, sweet breezes of the fair Southland.
Just outside this high, bordering wall, was a thick hedge nearly as
high as the wall itself, and with but the merest space between. And here
it was, between wall and hedge, that Sally, poor, half-neglected little
Maid Sally, was wild to cut over from Slipside Row and hide herself.
Because, ah! because she had found out that young Lionel Grandison, son
of Sir Percival and Lady Gabrielle Grandison, was in the habit of roving
over to the arbor after supper with his books, and supposing himself
alone, would often read aloud.
But now, his cousin, the Lady Rosamond Earlscourt, was spending the
summer at Ingleside, and Lionel, sixteen, tall, straight, and manly in
his boyish beauty, was reading aloud evenings to his fair cousin
Rosamond and his sister, Lucretia Grandison, a Fairy story.
He had read later than usual the night before, and, ah! it was almost as
if a Fairy had lifted her lightsome wand and granted some great boon
when Mistress Cory Ann said to Sally that after supper she could go
where she liked, and work would be over for the day.
That would give her time in which to do a bit of prinking, even such as
pulling out her tangled locks and putting her poor little dress as
straight as she could, then to run over to Ingleside at about the time
that supper would be over there, and Lionel would begin his delightful
reading.
No wonder Sally squeezed her own spare little sides with delight, as she
realized that now unless it rained she could fly night after night to
her enchanted grounds, and hear the clear voice of young Lionel
Grandison reading the beautiful Fairy tale.
Yes, it was of a truth like a piece of Fairy luck that had come into the
child's lonely life.