Life is a strange avenue of various trees and flowers;
Lightsome at commencement, but darkening to its end in a distant,
massy portal.
It beginneth as a little path, edged with the violet and primrose,
A little path of lawny grass and soft to tiny feet.
Soon, spring thistles in the way.
TUPPER.
JAMES' visit concluded. Frado had become greatly attached to him, and
with sorrow she listened and joined in the farewells which preceded his
exit. The remembrance of his kindness cheered her through many a weary
month, and an occasional word to her in letters to Jack, were like "cold
waters to a thirsty soul." Intelligence came that James would soon
marry; Frado hoped he would, and remove her from such severe treatment
as she was subject to. There had been additional burdens laid on her
since his return. She must now MILK the cows, she had then only to
drive. Flocks of sheep had been added to the farm, which daily claimed a
portion of her time. In the absence of the men, she must harness the
horse for Mary and her mother to ride, go to mill, in short, do the work
of a boy, could one be procured to endure the tirades of Mrs. Bellmont.
She was first up in the morning, doing what she could towards breakfast.
Occasionally, she would utter some funny thing for Jack's benefit, while
she was waiting on the table, provoking a sharp look from his mother, or
expulsion from the room.
On one such occasion, they found her on the roof of the barn. Some
repairs having been necessary, a staging had been erected, and was not
wholly removed. Availing herself of ladders, she was mounted in high
glee on the topmost board. Mr. Bellmont called sternly for her to come
down; poor Jane nearly fainted from fear. Mrs. B. and Mary did not care
if she "broke her neck," while Jack and the men laughed at her
fearlessness. Strange, one spark of playfulness could remain amid such
constant toil; but her natural temperament was in a high degree
mirthful, and the encouragement she received from Jack and the hired
men, constantly nurtured the inclination. When she had none of the
family around to be merry with, she would amuse herself with the
animals. Among the sheep was a willful leader, who always persisted in
being first served, and many times in his fury he had thrown down Nig,
till, provoked, she resolved to punish him. The pasture in which the
sheep grazed was founded on three sides by a wide stream, which flowed
on one side at the base of precipitous banks. The first spare moments at
her command, she ran to the pasture with a dish in her hand, and
mounting the highest point of land nearest the stream, called the flock
to their mock repast. Mr. Bellmont, with his laborers, were in sight,
though unseen by Frado. They paused to see what she was about to do.
Should she by any mishap lose her footing, she must roll into the
stream, and, without aid, must drown. They thought of shouting; but they
feared an unexpected salute might startle her, and thus ensure what they
were anxious to prevent. They watched in breathless silence. The willful
sheep came furiously leaping and bounding far in advance of the flock.
Just as he leaped for the dish, she suddenly jumped to one side, when
down he rolled into the river, and swimming across, remained alone till
night. The men lay down, convulsed with laughter at the trick, and
guessed at once its object. Mr. Bellmont talked seriously to the child
for exposing herself to such danger; but she hopped about on her toes,
and with laughable grimaces replied, she knew she was quick enough to
"give him a slide."
But to return. James married a Baltimorean lady of wealthy parentage, an
indispensable requisite, his mother had always taught him. He did not
marry her wealth, though; he loved HER, sincerely. She was not unlike
his sister Jane, who had a social, gentle, loving nature, rather TOO
yielding, her brother thought. His Susan had a firmness which Jane
needed to complete her character, but which her ill health may in a
measure have failed to produce. Although an invalid, she was not
excluded from society. Was it strange SHE should seem a desirable
companion, a treasure as a wife?
Two young men seemed desirous of possessing her. One was a neighbor,
Henry Reed, a tall, spare young man, with sandy hair, and blue, sinister
eyes. He seemed to appreciate her wants, and watch with interest her
improvement or decay. His kindness she received, and by it was almost
won. Her mother wished her to encourage his attentions. She had counted
the acres which were to be transmitted to an only son; she knew there
was silver in the purse; she would not have Jane too sentimental.
The eagerness with which he amassed wealth, was repulsive to Jane; he
did not spare his person or beasts in its pursuit. She felt that to such
a man she should be considered an incumbrance; she doubted if he would
desire her, if he did not know she would bring a handsome patrimony. Her
mother, full in favor with the parents of Henry, commanded her to accept
him. She engaged herself, yielding to her mother's wishes, because she
had not strength to oppose them; and sometimes, when witness of her
mother's and Mary's tyranny, she felt any change would be preferable,
even such a one as this. She knew her husband should be the man of her
own selecting, one she was conscious of preferring before all others.
She could not say this of Henry.
In this dilemma, a visitor came to Aunt Abby's; one of her
boy-favorites, George Means, from an adjoining State. Sensible, plain
looking, agreeable, talented, he could not long be a stranger to any one
who wished to know him. Jane was accustomed to sit much with Aunt Abby
always; her presence now seemed necessary to assist in entertaining this
youthful friend. Jane was more pleased with him each day, and silently
wished Henry possessed more refinement, and the polished manners of
George. She felt dissatisfied with her relation to him. His calls while
George was there, brought their opposing qualities vividly before her,
and she found it disagreeable to force herself into those attentions
belonging to him. She received him apparently only as a neighbor.
George returned home, and Jane endeavored to stifle the risings of
dissatisfaction, and had nearly succeeded, when a letter came which
needed but one glance to assure her of its birthplace; and she retired
for its perusal. Well was it for her that her mother's suspicion was not
aroused, or her curiosity startled to inquire who it came from. After
reading it, she glided into Aunt Abby's, and placed it in her hands, who
was no stranger to Jane's trials.
George could not rest after his return, he wrote, until he had
communicated to Jane the emotions her presence awakened, and his desire
to love and possess her as his own. He begged to know if his affections
were reciprocated, or could be; if she would permit him to write to her;
if she was free from all obligation to another.
"What would mother say?" queried Jane, as she received the letter from
her aunt.
"Not much to comfort you."
"Now, aunt, George is just such a man as I could really love, I think,
from all I have seen of him; you know I never could say that of Henry"--
"Then don't marry him," interrupted Aunt Abby.
"Mother will make me."
"Your father won't."
"Well, aunt, what can I do? Would you answer the letter, or not?"
"Yes, answer it. Tell him your situation."
"I shall not tell him all my feelings."
Jane answered that she had enjoyed his company much; she had seen
nothing offensive in his manner or appearance; that she was under no
obligations which forbade her receiving letters from him as a friend and
acquaintance. George was puzzled by the reply. He wrote to Aunt Abby,
and from her learned all. He could not see Jane thus sacrificed, without
making an effort to rescue her. Another visit followed. George heard
Jane say she preferred HIM. He then conferred with Henry at his home. It
was not a pleasant subject to talk upon. To be thus supplanted, was not
to be thought of. He would sacrifice everything but his inheritance to
secure his betrothed.
"And so you are the cause of her late coldness towards me. Leave! I will
talk no more about it; the business is settled between us; there it will
remain," said Henry.
"Have you no wish to know the real state of Jane's affections towards
you?" asked George.
"No! Go, I say! go!" and Henry opened the door for him to pass out.
He retired to Aunt Abby's. Henry soon followed, and presented his cause
to Mrs. Bellmont.
Provoked, surprised, indignant, she summoned Jane to her presence, and
after a lengthy tirade upon Nab, and her satanic influence, told her she
could not break the bonds which held her to Henry; she should not.
George Means was rightly named; he was, truly, mean enough; she knew his
family of old; his father had four wives, and five times as many
children.
"Go to your room, Miss Jane," she continued. "Don't let me know of your
being in Nab's for one while."
The storm was now visible to all beholders. Mr. Bellmont sought Jane.
She told him her objections to Henry; showed him George's letter; told
her answer, the occasion of his visit. He bade her not make herself
sick; he would see that she was not compelled to violate her free choice
in so important a transaction. He then sought the two young men; told
them he could not as a father see his child compelled to an uncongenial
union; a free, voluntary choice was of such importance to one of her
health. She must be left free to her own choice.
Jane sent Henry a letter of dismission; he her one of a legal bearing,
in which he balanced his disappointment by a few hundreds.
To brave her mother's fury, nearly overcame her, but the consolation of
a kind father and aunt cheered her on. After a suitable interval she was
married to George, and removed to his home in Vermont. Thus another
light disappeared from Nig's horizon. Another was soon to follow. Jack
was anxious to try his skill in providing for his own support; so a
situation as clerk in a store was procured in a Western city, and six
months after Jane's departure, was Nig abandoned to the tender mercies
of Mary and her mother. As if to remove the last vestige of earthly joy,
Mrs. Bellmont sold the companion and pet of Frado, the dog Fido.