SALLY SAYS, "I WILL!"
Sally knew all about the brave _Belle Virgeen_. In those days the
Virginia gentleman was not only lord of his house and lands, but up the
river came the vessels that bore the tobacco straight from his fields or
sheds to far distant shores.
The black men planted, cut, and packed tobacco, then acted as porters in
carrying it to the vessels. And Sir Percival owned a part of the _Belle
Virgeen_, which twice a year came back from the old country, laden with
silks, woollens, laces, ribbons, stockings, and many other things which
had been sent for by a few Southern traders.
Many a time had the child watched the lading and the unlading of the
_Belle Virgeen_, and, indeed, half the town was likely to be on hand
watching the ship go and come.
But for some reason Sally always kept out of sight when the people from
the great house were around. And if the Fairy Prince had ever seen her,
it would have been such a mere glimpse he had obtained that he surely
would never have known her again.
Now in three months more, _Belle Virgeen_ would spread her sails, and
away she would glide to another part of the world, and with her would go
the Fairy Prince. Then the weak voice mocked her again:
"Eh? eh? eh? And our fair Lady Rosamond, prithee?"
"The Lady Rosamond has money and beauty, friends, fine clothes, and many
things to please her," grieved Sally, "what need has she of the Fairy
Prince for company? She can read books, ride in the family coach, sit at
a fine table; but when the vessel sails away, what other comfort will I
find with his voice gone from the arbor, and in all Ingleside I can find
him not?"
"There is work to do, learning to get, many things to seek after," cried
her good Fairy. "Up and away! Be ashamed to brood and sorrow over what
you cannot help. There is much good to be found if you will but search
for it."
"Is there?" asked Sally, her eyes no longer drooping, but opening wide.
"Prithee, why not?" questioned the Fairy. "How oft must I tell thee?"
A few nights after this, when July had come, and the black people,
bare-footed, bare-armed, dressed in but one or two cotton garments, went
sluggishly about their work, when gauzy-winged creatures droned midst
clumps of sweet flowers and heavy garden scents, when rich blossoms hung
in trailing abundance and the paths were carpeted with wild flowers,
when birds sang far into the twilight, Maid Sally more slowly than usual
went over to her rocky seat.
Some one was asleep in the arbor, for she could hear the hard breathing
of one in slumber. Then a book fell to the floor. Soon there was a
turning of leaves, and soon again some one else entered the arbor.
"Ah, Rosamond," began a voice well known, "had you come a moment sooner,
a drowsy lord you would have found."
"Beshrew the idea of a lord of sixteen!" cried Rosamond, pettishly.
"Where is the sense in leaving home and sailing away to another land to
study what could be very well learned right here, and the better to look
into troubles that may never come?"
"I must fit myself in the very best way for the future," manfully
answered the lad.
"And prithee, are there not fields to till, crops to watch, and hands to
guide, that one must fly across the ocean in search of usefulness?"
"My father is able to look after his fields, his crops, and his
servants, cousin Rosamond, and it was a fine course of study that fitted
him to be the man he is. And thankful I am that he hath both means and
the willingness wherewith to fit me to follow in his footsteps."
"We have had many pleasant times together," sighed Rosamond.
"As boy and girl, yes. I go now to prepare myself to take a man's place
in affairs, would'st hinder me?"
"Yes!" snapped Rosamond. "I would indeed!"
She was a petted beauty, this Rosamond, and being seventeen was both
much admired and sought after.
"Yes," she repeated, "I would hinder you from such folly! You have been
well taught already. Here is our own William and Mary College, no mean
place of learning; why is it not fully good enough, pray tell me?"
"I seek helps of all kinds, my cousin, and would study midst the
treasures and libraries of the Old World, nor can any one hinder me."
"Then will I turn my thoughts another way," said Rosamond, "and that
will not please your mother."
There was no reply.
"What say you to that?" asked the haughty beauty.
"It is my desire to think chiefly at present of the study on which my
heart is set," was the sensible reply; "but," Lionel added, more hotly,
"I want to follow the course I have marked out, and I will!"
There was ever something about the warm air of the South that made her
sons impetuous in speech, yet they were also chivalrous, gentle to the
weak, and kind and courteous in speech.
So when Rosamond began to cry and to say, "What need to be so harsh with
a poor little cousin who meant no harm?" Lionel exclaimed:
"Forgive me, Rosamond, I meant not to be unkind. But I feel within me
the need of preparation such as is before me. Yet I would not be too
hasty in speech. I pray you, forgive me, dear."
"Ah, how sweet is the spirit of my Fairy Prince," smiled Sally. "Who
would not love so gentle a voice, and one who so quickly says
'forgive'?"
Then she looked around with the scared expression always quick to come
over her face whenever she dared to say or to think, "My Fairy Prince."
Nearly every evening after this, Sally would hover near the arbor, but
so warm was the weather that the young people would go in the family
coach for long drives, while Sir Percival and Lady Gabrielle would start
away in the shay, taking their slower way through sweet, grassy roads,
along by the quiet dingle and flowery dell.
Then off would roam Sally, perhaps loitering around fair Ingleside, or
returning to her beloved pine woods and leafy oak-tree.
One evening, as Sally was returning through Lover's Lane, she saw Mammy
Leezer coming toward her, and very glad she was to meet the good-looking
old colored woman. Mammy came on with her usual slow step, and said, as
Sally drew near:
"Hot, isn't it, honey?"
"Yes, it is hot," Sally made answer, "but this is a pretty evening for
those who can go riding."
Mammy tossed her independent old head.
"Neber you fret 'bout dose as hev kerridges to tote 'em," she said.
"You's jus' as good as some folkses dat rides all de time."
"Oh, but it is nice to be born to fine things," said Sally, with a
little laugh.
"How'd you know what you's borned to?" asked Mammy, with another toss of
her head. "You doan't b'long to dat Slipside Row no more'n nothin'. I've
heah tell o' your pappy. If he had done live' you'd be gettin' learnin'
all dis time, shor! You oughten be gettin' it now."
Mammy had sunk down on a low stump and took on an air of importance that
covered her like unto a garment. And as no class of people enjoy telling
a story or airing their ideas more than do the colored race, Mammy
settled herself as if for a long speech, and began, feeling all the time
much pleased at Sally's attention:
"Now, ob course, I ain't for sayin' one word 'gainst my marster or
mistis, not by no means. Why, bress yo' young soul, I'se been part ob
de fambly most eber since Mars' Perc'val and Mistis Gabrelle wor
married. And I nussed Miss 'Cretia right f'om de day she wor borned, and
as for Mars' Lion, he's my babby shor!
"Law de deah sakes! dat lil scamp neber would let me out'n he sight till
he wor four yeah ole, and to dis berry day dat chile come to his ole
Mammy with his troubles."
Sally listened enchanted. Here were bits of family history such as she
had never for a moment expected to hear. She said, timidly:
"I do not see how a fine young gentleman can have troubles."
"Well, he do," said Mammy. "Now, fo' instance,--there's dat Miss
Ros'mond Earlscourt, she's got heaps ob money, and her face looks berry
well, too. And dese yere old famblies o' Virginny, they likes to keep to
demselves and marry and gib in marriage to one anudder 'cause there's
heaps o' fambly pride to 'em. Dat's all right, ob course, but let me
tell you, honey, I can see plain as day dat my Mars' Lion he ain't
goin' fo' to bind himse'f to no cousin or ennybody else till he wants
to. Dat Ros'mond, she a yeah ol'er dan Mars' Lion, and boys mostly falls
in love with girls ol'er than they are, when they's in bibs, _some_ ob
them does.
"And my mistis,"--Mammy whispered and rolled her eyes,--"she want dat
chile to make right up to Ros'mond, but he jus' won't do it! And he tell
his ole Mammy dat he goin' to hab his own way 'bout some tings if de
skies fall."
Then Mammy dropped her dreadful story-telling air as she said, in her
own sweet voice:
"Now, honey, I doan't expeck you'll eber tell a word o' what I'se been
sayin'! I mostly doan't tell fambly affairs, but you looked so sweet
with yo' reddy-gold hair, and dem holes in yo' cheeks, I was led on to
speak ob mine fo' once. Yo' won't be tellin, will you, missy?"
"No, oh, no!" said Sally, "I wouldn't for the world!"
"Dat's my kitten!" said Mammy, so caressingly that Sally smiled for very
joy. And, indeed, it appeared to her so pleasant a thing that the old
nurse of her Fairy Prince should have trusted her with a bit of family
matters that it would have been hard to give away a word that Mammy had
said.
"Now I'll tote 'long," said Mammy, making lunges toward getting up from
the stump, "and I ain't meant to say a word I hadn't orter, but my ole
heart's berry sore 'cause my young Mars' Lion, he goin' fur away come
Septem'er, and no knowin' when I'll eber see my babby 'gain."
Mammy should not have told family matters, and Sally should not have
listened, but both were innocent as to some things, and no harm was
done.
Sally kept on to the pine grove, going over in her mind what she had
heard. But she thought most of what Mammy had asked about herself, and
what she had said about her father. She repeated in her own way of
speaking:
"How do you know what you were born to? You don't belong to Slipside
Row. I've heard of your father. If he had lived you would be getting
learning all this time. You ought to be getting it now."
Then Sally listened, hoping her good Fairy would have something to say,
and at once it began to speak.
"You feel in your heart that what Mammy said may be true. It may be
_because_ your father was a gentleman and your mother a lady that you
begin to want to study and to learn as they would have wished you to.
Look around. Do not give up. Be determined to see a way to lift
yourself. You can find the way!"
Sally stood still. "I will help myself," she said, stoutly. "I will! I
will!"
"Oh! oh! oh!" she cried, softly, "that is the same thing my Fairy Prince
said, 'I will'!"
She whispered, with her small brown hand before her mouth:
"And we were both talking about getting learning!"