TWO YEARS
With the coming of another summer there were reasons why Sir Percival
Grandison did not think it best to have his son Lionel come home.
Troublous times were indeed brewing, and he did not want his
enthusiastic son to hear the reports that were going from mouth to mouth
and from place to place.
And when the next December came he was glad the lad was away, for in
Boston, men painted and plumed like Indians had gone at night aboard
some laden vessels lying in the harbor, and had thrown nearly two
hundred and fifty chests of tea into the water.
For England was bound to tax the people of the Colonies for tea, beyond
what they were willing to stand. And very patient had the Colonists
been. Eight years before this there had been a Stamp Act put upon them
by the mother country, trying to make them put a stamp on all their law
papers, newspapers, and such things.
But this had made the people of the Colonies so very angry that the law
was laid aside.
Now, strange as it may seem, there were yet some of the people who did
not quite know whether it was right to stand up and say that England was
wrong, and they would not stay on her side, or to think that they ought
to obey the king in everything simply because he was the king, and it
seemed wrong to break away from his rule.
And Sir Percival Grandison, really a fine, noble gentleman, found it
hard to make up his mind as to what was entirely right or wrong in the
important question.
Sally was now so much a student that nothing, it seemed, could stand in
the way of her books and her swift way of learning. She understood all
about the trouble with England, and there was not a more decided,
staunch little American patriot than was she.
You know a patriot is one who loves well his or her own country, and
Sally was a true, staunch young Colonist. And Mistress Kent listened in
surprise to some things she said that winter, wondering that a mere
child should know her own mind so well.
"I suppose," she said one day, "that we ought to love the king and obey
him. But here we are way off by ourselves in another country, where the
people have their own homes, and fields and lands of their very own. And
why should they want to keep taxing us harder and harder over in
England, when we owe them nothing at all, and ask nothing of them? _I_
wouldn't pay such unjust claims!"
Mistress Kent was timid, and watched carefully her speech, and could
only warn the out-spoken child to be careful herself.
"The times are hot and full of threat," she said, "it is feared there
may be fighting before long; it were better to watch our words."
And Sally tried to be prudent, although it tried her sorely when
Mistress Cory Ann would raise her voice and declare that folks were
fools who thought it best to oppose the king. But she said those things
most frequently when the men were away.
And Sally found great comfort and delight in her lessons, which
increased from time to time. She also sang in the choir and at
singing-school, greatly to Master Sutcliff's help and satisfaction.
One day she picked up part of a newspaper in the road, and was surprised
to find that not a word of it could she read.
This was late in the fall, after her Fairy Prince had again gone away,
bound for Oxford and its halls of learning. And as time went on, not a
particle of the dreamy, story-like charm that clustered about the young
Lionel died out of her heart. If anything, it grew stronger. Nor was it
strange that, with her fancy-loving nature, the lonely child had to set
up a kind of dream-castle for her mind to feed upon.
Yet all was pure and innocent as could be, and, if not real, it yet was
helpful. And if into her heart had grown a kind of affection for her
Fairy Prince, who was so far removed from her in many ways, she felt
that it must always stay just where it was, in truth a secret admiration
for one far beyond and above her.
"Because," she said to herself, "we are oceans apart, not only because
the great sea rolls between us, but because in every way he is so far
away."
Now on this day when the strange paper came into her hands, Sally went
slowly along, puzzling over the words, until she exclaimed:
"Oh, I know what it meaneth! The paper is in another language, and how I
would like to understand it! I must learn it if I can find one to teach
me, I must, I must!"
When she went at evening to Mistress Kent she took the sheet with her.
"Yes, it is a page of a French newspaper," said the mistress, "and
although I can make out many of the words, I have not enough knowledge
of the strange tongue to think of teaching it."
A new ambition, or eager desire, jumped into Sally's heart.
"And is there no one who could teach me?" she asked.
"There may be many who could," answered the teacher, "but it hath always
been thought a hard matter to learn another language. Parson Kendall
hath wide knowledge in Latin, Greek, and some say in French, also. But,
knowing for one's self, and imparting or giving knowledge to another,
are two different things. It needeth a professor, or a teacher well
skilled in other tongues, to teach them properly."
Into Sally's mind leaped another thought.
"My Fairy Prince will learn these other tongues, why cannot I? I will! A
way there must be. I am poor, but I can learn."
Mistress Kent then promised Sally that another year, when she would be
fourteen, she should begin the study of Latin, if she kept on flying
ahead with her studies as she was doing. There was no danger that Sally
would forget the promise.
That night she set her wise head to planning and asking in what way she
could manage to take up the study of French. Her two spare afternoons
were still taken up with Dame Kent, the mother of her good teacher. The
evenings, all except Saturday, were given to lessons and the
singing-school. What time was there for anything else?
"Yet I will!" she said, over and again.
"That is right," said her inner Fairy. "Since the desire has come so
strongly upon you to know the French language, only persevere, and the
way to learn it will open."
It opened in so simple a manner as to again surprise brave Maid Sally.
And her ever-present Fairy said:
"It doth in truth astonish me, the ease of it all."
She was on her way home from Mistress Kent's when Parson Kendall came
toward her.
"Good evening, young maiden," he said, with gentle dignity, "and how do
the studies progress?"
"Very fairly, I thank you, sir."
"And what are they now?"
"I have arithmetic, sir, grammar, geography, and history."
"Quite a list; and are the studies still pleasant to thee?"
"Very, very pleasant, I thank you, sir. But, ah! if only I could learn
the French language!"
"Learn French! And what, prithee, would a maid of thy years be needing
of that?"
"I might need it when I am older, sir."
Then she added, with the respect that was natural to her, and was always
expected of the young:
"I think I should much like studying other languages. Grammar pleaseth
me; I like right well knowing my own parts of speech."
Parson Kendall looked pleased.
"When could'st thou find time for another study?" he asked. "It is no
such simple thing to master a strange tongue."
"I could, sir," was all Maid Sally said in reply.
The parson smiled.
"Could'st which?" he asked. "Find the time or master the language?"
"I meant, sir, I could learn the language, but Mistress Brace might have
much to say if I asked for more time, and I must in some way work for
the one who teaches me anything new."
"Thou hast the right idea about some things," said the parson, kindly,
"but go home now, and fret not about knowing another tongue at present;
it is not needed so early in life. But that which is greatly desired
sometimes cometh to pass."
There was a twinkle in the good man's eye when he last spoke that Sally
liked to see.
"He is wise and kind," she said, as the parson passed on, "and I must
wait for learning French until comes the right time for it, but learn it
I must some day."
"Think no more about it, but do the best you can with the fine teaching
you have already," advised her Fairy.
And Sally tried to heed the advice.
It was but the next week on Wednesday afternoon, when Mistress Kent
returned from visiting her sister, that she said to Sally:
"I met our good parson but just now, and he would like seeing you at his
house on your way home. I hope he hath good tidings for you."
Sally trembled with hope as she went toward the parson's house, and it
may have been that he feared lest the little maid might find it hard to
use the great brass knocker on the front-door, for there he was in the
garden as Sally entered the gate.
"It hath all been arranged, dear maiden," he said, in so father-like a
tone that Sally felt tears starting to her eyes. "I deemed it best to
see Mistress Brace before saying more to thee about the French lessons,
but the use of one morning is to be given thee. Come on Thursday by
nine o'clock, and an hour and a half will I give thee.
"No payment will be required save that one or two simple rules must be
observed. No more than half an hour a day at present must be given to
French. This will make progress slow, but it is of more importance that
figures, history, geography, and thy native speech should be well
learned than that thou shouldst know a foreign tongue while so young.
"And so, see to it that other studies are not neglected for this new one
with a new teacher. This is all."
When Sally began, to thank Mistress Cory Ann for her kindness in
allowing her to go of a morning to the parson, sharp words arose to the
mistress's lips, but she kept them back.
Sally was yet a great help to her. And a maid whom the parson would take
pains to teach the French language was not to be too harshly treated. So
she only said:
"Ah, well, it seems not strange to me that one who thinks not much of
our king should want to get able to talk with the French some day. So I
told the parson he was welcome to teach you all the queer stuff he chose
to, as I am sure he is."
Mistress Cory Ann Brace did not speak to Parson Kendall in that way at
all, and Sally knew it. She curtseyed and bobbed and tried at first to
pretend that she could not spare Sally during a morning.
But when the parson said, quietly, "Very well, then we must try some
other plan," she came around as if the word "burgesses" was again
sounding in her ears, and said that after all she reckoned that on
Thursdays she could let the girl off for a couple of hours in the
morning, and so it was settled without more ado.
Before spring again gave place to summer, the parson said to Goodwife
Kendall:
"It doth astonish me, the way in which the Maid Sally Dukeen taketh her
French! I have of late granted her an hour a day at the study, she so
desired it. She hath verbs, accent, the speech itself to a degree that
will soon enable her to speak and write it correctly. And to-day the
pretty wench asked if in the fall she could drop geography and take up
Greek!"
"I bethink me she must have come of a race strong of will, keen of
intellect, and quick to learn. I would that we knew more of the maid."
Did Sally grieve that no Fairy Prince would come sailing home on the
_Belle Virgeen_ when June would be rich with flowers and song?
Yes, and no. Down deep in her heart was a little murmur of pain. But her
Fairy had cried as if in scorn:
"And what, prithee, have you to do with the comings and the goings of
the Fairy Prince? If it be the will of his father that he should stick
to his studies and not mix at all with the strife, and, it may be, the
peril of these days, why should it cause you sorrow? Dream, if you must,
of the lad that is far away, but concern not yourself with the course
that is marked out for him."
And Sally was ashamed to mourn or sigh over her Dream Prince, except so
far down in her heart that even her own inner Fairy could scarcely know
it.