NETTIE IN THE MANSION.
She shall dwell in lordly houses, with gardens all about,
And servants to attend her when she goes in and out;
She’ll have music for the hearing, and pictures for the eye,
And exquisite and costly things each sense to gratify.
_—Howitt._
Very early on the morning of the 2d of January, while yet the level rays
of the newly-risen sun were projecting golden lines of light aslant the
snow-covered earth, the traveling carriage of General Garnet passed
through Huttontown on its way to the beach to take in Miss Joe and
little Nettie, who were that day to leave their island home.
At the same hour Miss Joe was bustling over her last preparations at the
isle. The simple furniture was to be safely stowed away and left in the
house; the most valuable portion of their personal effects was to be
transported to Mount Calm at more leisure; her own and Nettie’s clothing
was packed into a chest ready to be taken away.
Hugh’s bundle was made up and slung at the end of a stick across his
shoulder. The boy certainly looked the most hopeful and happy of the
three.
“Dear Hugh, you do just ’mind me of Jack in the fairy tale, going to
seek his fortune,” said Nettie, gazing at him with admiration.
Nettie herself was wild with joy and expectation. Scarcely had she slept
or ate since the noted visit of her godfather. How could she? All the
fairy tales she had ever read in her life were about to be realized in
her own person; she was Cinderella, going in splendid style to the royal
palace, to be married to the king’s son; she was Beauty, who had just
discovered the Beast to be a handsome, powerful prince, who was going to
make a princess of her; or, if not literally so, her dreams were equally
fanciful and extravagant. But how different was the reality, poor
Nettie! more fairy-favored as wood-sprite in the forest wild, or
water-nymph in her sea-girt isle than ever as heiress of the millionaire
in the cold magnificence of Mount Calm.
The last thing Miss Joe did was to put out the fire and dress Nettie in
a little cloak of scarlet country cloth, made with a hood to go over her
head.
At which Nettie, with many extravagant capers, declared herself to be
Little Red Riding Hood in person.
When all was done and the house locked up, the three took their way down
the solitary footpath through the snow to the water’s edge.
Hugh had already cleaned out the boat, and they all got into it. Hugh
took the oar. The water was very smooth, the current in their favor, and
in twenty minutes the boy landed his charge safely upon the beach.
The carriage of General Garnet was in waiting.
Miss Joe and Nettie were handed in by Hugh, and then the boy put in his
hand to bid them a sorrowful good-by.
Miss Joe burst into tears, sobbed aloud, told Hugh if he should not find
his place as shop-boy at Mr. Fig’s grocery pleasant to let her know and
she would go right back to Hutton’s Isle, and they two would work
together and see better times when the warm weather should come.
Nettie, for her part, much as she loved Hugh, could not cry. She had
read too many fairy tales not to know how her own ought to end; and so
Nettie felt perfectly assured that by some dénouement at Mount Calm
every wish of her heart must be accomplished, most especially the
dearest wish of all, that of having her playmate always with her. So
they took leave. Hugh struck into a by-path, and walked off briskly
toward the store of Mr. Fig. And the carriage rolled on up through the
main street of the village and out over the country road that led over
the snow-covered hills and through the hollow to Mount Calm.
Arrived at Mount Calm they were met by General Garnet, who, receiving
little Nettie in his arms, pressed her fondly and carried her into the
house, followed by Miss Joe. Here, in the hall, he delivered the little
girl to the charge of a neatly-dressed “ladylike” mulatto girl with a
gray Madras turban on her head and a pair of heavy gold hoops in her
ears, telling her to take Miss Seabright to the chamber lately occupied
by Miss Garnet, and to prepare her for the breakfast table.
“And what’s your name?” asked Nettie, looking up with curiosity at the
gay mulatto.
“Nettie, my darling, she is Hero, your maid,” said General Garnet.
Hero took the hand of the child and was about to lead her up the great
staircase, when Nettie suddenly broke from her, and, exclaiming,
interrogatively: “This way?” sprang up the stairs like a squirrel.
Hero tripped after her, overtook her on the landing, and gently took her
hand, saying:
“Miss Seabright, young ladies oughtn’t to romp through a quiet house,
and race upstairs in that manner.”
“I know young ladies oughtn’t to, but I am a little gal.”
“You are a little lady, and should act like one. But here is your
chamber, Miss Seabright,” said Hero, opening the door of Elsie’s
beautiful room.
“Oh, how—how grand!” exclaimed Nettie, breaking from her maid, springing
into the midst of the apartment, and standing gazing, speechless with
admiration upon the splendor—for such they were to her—of the furniture.
The French paper on the walls, with its pretty pattern of wild rose
vines climbing up gilded pillars and forming into arches: the carpet on
the floor, chosen to match, with wild rose vines running over a white
ground; the pink damask and white muslin curtains of the windows, that
suffused the whole chamber with a soft, roseate light; the rosewood
dressing bureau standing between these two windows, with its tall mirror
and marble top, and elegant ornaments of porcelain, pearl and gold; the
rosewood bedstead, standing in the opposite recess, with its
white-embossed counterpane, and rich valance, all softly shaded by
hanging curtains of pink damask, like those of the windows; the
wardrobe, with its mirror doors, occupying the side to the left of the
chimney; the marble-top table, with its elegant trifles—a work-box of
mother-of-pearl and gold, a standish of ebony, inlaid with ivory, a
portfolio, books, etc.; the work-stand of satinwood; the luxurious sofa,
chair, and ottoman, covered with rose-colored cut velvet to suit the
draperies; the polished steel grate; with its silver mounting, and
marble mantelpiece, with its ormolu clock, vases, statuettes,
medallions, etc.; lastly, the paintings, few, but admirable, though
attractive to Nettie chiefly upon account of the massive and
richly-gilded frames.
Introducing Nettie into that elegant, luxurious chamber was like letting
a monkey loose in a fancy-shop. For a moment she stood shading her eyes
with her hand, as she would have done in looking upon a dazzling winter
landscape, gazing transfixed with surprise; and then she ran hither and
thither, seized this and that, upset an inkstand, seized a porcelain
bottle by its stopper, letting the other part fall and break; knocked
down an elegant dressing-case, splitting off its pearl corners, and
spilling all its contents; jumping up into one of the beautiful chairs
and standing on it; snatched a statuette of Thalia from the mantelpiece,
and, calling it a doll-baby, declared she would make it a red petticoat
and give it the name of Dolly.
All this was the work of a minute, for then Hero went and took her hand
again, and said:
“Come, Miss Seabright, all these pretty things are yours, but you must
learn to handle them carefully, so as not to break and destroy them.
Come, now, I have to get you ready for breakfast. You are to eat
breakfast with the general. Come, let me wash your face and comb your
hair.”
“No, indeed, you aint a-goin’ to wash my face and comb my hair. I’ve
washed my own face and combed my own hair ever since I can remember, and
I aint a-goin’ to let anybody else do it now.”
“Well, then, you do it; and here is such a pretty blue dress of princess
cloth, all trimmed with black braid; and here is a black silk apron and
a nice lace tucker, and silk mits, and a tortoise-shell long comb to
keep your curls back, and here is a pair of black morocco boots, see!”
“Oh, how beautiful!” exclaimed the child admiringly, as she hastened
with her ablutions.
When Nettie was arrayed in her new dress she scarcely permitted her maid
to tie the last thing, or turn the last long ringlet behind the comb,
before she sprang from under her hands and fled downstairs to “show
godfather and granny how she looked dressed like a lady.”
As Nettie sprang into the presence of her guardian he arose and walked
toward her, took her hand gently, and told her that little girls must
walk and not jump and skip through the rooms of a house. Then he led her
into the breakfast room, where Miss Joe was already installed at the
head of the table, attended by a “genteel” waiter. General Garnet seated
his ward and took his own place. Hero now made her appearance and stood
by her little mistress. But Nettie’s eyes were wandering from the
elegancies of the breakfast table, with its damask tablecloth, fine
napkins, Sevres china service, etc., to the superb sideboard, with its
splendid array of cut-glass and silver plate; and from the rich Turkey
carpet to the wonderful paper hangings of the walls that showed the city
of Paris by morning light. And Nettie’s maid had several times to remind
her that little ladies did not stare about, but ate their breakfast
prettily, before she could withdraw her attention from the new glories
around her and fix it upon her breakfast.
But before the meal was half over Nettie had sprung up and bounded out
of the room in search of more novelties. The hall, the library and the
picture-gallery, the parlor and the drawing room, the saloon and the
conservatory—all on the first floor—were in turn invaded and overhauled
by the eager, impetuous child. Then all the chambers on the second floor
were visited and ransacked. And then the indefatigable little explorer
made for the attic, and besieged the doors of the locked-up rooms there.
Through all these runnings and ramblings Hero followed her, telling her
that little ladies should not do this, or that, or the other.
When night came, a little tired with her incessant running, and a little
fretted and dispirited with the ceaseless accompaniment of her maid’s
tuitions and fault-finding, Nettie went into the library, where her
guardian sat luxuriating in his easy-chair at a table covered with books
and papers before a fine fire.
Nettie was too tired to notice the elegant and luxurious appointments of
General Garnet’s favorite retreat; the superb book-cases at intervals
along the walls; the rare and costly statues, busts, and oil-paintings;
the tables laden with prints and articles of virtu; the easy-chairs,
sofas, and foot-cushions; the deep, soft carpet, “stealing all noises
from the feet”; the heavy damask curtains, excluding all cold air, and
the splendid chandeliers pendant from the ceiling and diffusing through
their stained glass shades a rich, warm, and glowing light throughout
the apartment. Nettie sauntered straight up to General Garnet, climbed
upon his knees, and threw her head and arms languidly upon his bosom.
“Tired, my little Nettie?”
“Oh, very tired, godfather, indeed. Take me in your arms and rock me
back and forward, as Hugh does.”
“You must forget Hugh and the isle, and the lodge, and all your
infantile life, little Nettie. You are going to be a young lady, and
some day you may feel mortified if anyone reminded you of these things.”
“But I think it would be wicked to forget them, godfather, and indeed I
won’t forget them, either,” said Nettie, lifting herself from her
resting-place.
General Garnet saw his error. If he wished Nettie to forget her past
life, companions, and occupations, he must never remind her of them. If
she spoke of them, he must not keep her mind fixed upon the subject even
by opposing it. He must draw her attention to something else. Reaching
out his hand, drawing a book of colored prints up before him, and
opening it, he said:
“You have a great deal of curiosity, little Nettie. Here are views taken
on the Mediterranean; pictures of strange places and old cities, which I
will tell you about. But as I do not wish to talk to a listless hearer,
you must first tell me when you see a picture that interests you, and
question me about anything that excites your curiosity, and then I shall
know that I am speaking to an attentive pupil.”
Nettie kissed her guardian rapturously, and, still sitting on his knees,
bent forward and eagerly turned over the leaves of the folio, until a
view on the coast of Greece arrested her attention, and, pausing upon
it, she caressed her guardian and claimed the explanation. General
Garnet was absorbed in the description and history of this plate, and
Nettie was listening eagerly, when the front door-bell was heard to
ring. General Garnet ceased talking, and raised his head and listened.
Nettie pressed her lips to his and listened, too. The library door
opened; a servant entered, and announced:
“Dr. Hardcastle!”
“Show Dr. Hardcastle in,” said General Garnet, gathering Nettie closely
to his bosom with one arm, resting the other hand upon the table, and
elevating his head and Roman nose to the loftiest angle of scorn. A
minute passed, and then the door opened again, and Magnus Hardcastle,
still clothed in his rough emigrant suit, entered the library, walked
down its length, and stood face to face with General Garnet.