NARCISSA
OR
THE ROAD TO ROME
IN VERONA
BY
LAURA E. RICHARDS
AUTHOR OF "CAPTAIN JANUARY," "MELODY,"
"QUEEN HILDEGARDE," ETC.
ELEVENTH THOUSAND
BOSTON
ESTES & LAURIAT
1894
_Copyright, 1892_,
BY THE TWO TALES PUBLISHING CO.
_Copyright, 1894_,
BY LAURA E. RICHARDS.
_Copyright, 1894_,
BY ESTES AND LAURIAT.
_All Rights Reserved._
University Press:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
NARCISSA 3
I. DREAMING 3
II. WAKING 21
IN VERONA 43
NARCISSA.
NARCISSA.
THE ROAD TO ROME.
Part I.
DREAMING.
Narcissa was sitting in the doorway, feeding the young turkeys. It was
the back door of the old gray house,--no one would have thought of
sitting in the front doorway,--and there were crooked flagstones
leading up to it, cracked and seamed, with grass growing in the
cracks. Close by the door-post, against which the girl was leaning,
stood a great bush of tansy, with waving feathery leaves and yellow
blossoms, like small gold buttons. Narcissa was very fond of this
tansy-bush, and liked to pluck a leaf and crush it in her hands, to
bring out the keen, wholesome smell. She had one in her hand now, and
was wondering if ever any one had a dress of green velvet,
tansy-color, with gold buttons. The minister's wife once had a bow of
green velvet on her black straw bonnet, and Narcissa had loved to look
at it, and to wish it were somewhere else, with things that belonged
to it. She often thought of splendid clothes, though she had never
seen anything finer than the black silk of the minister's wife, and
that always made her think of a newly-blacked stove. When she was
younger, she had made a romance about every scrap of silk or satin in
the crazy-quilt that Aunt Pinker's daughter, the milliner, had sent
her one Christmas. The gown she had had out of that yellow satin--it
did her good to think about it even now!--and there was a scrap of
pale pink silk which came--was it really nothing but fancy?--from a
long, trailing robe, trimmed with filmy lace (the lace in the
story-papers was always filmy), in which she had passed many happy,
dreamy hours.
It never occurred to Narcissa that she needed no fine clothes to set
off her beauty; in truth, she never dreamed that she had any beauty.
Color meant so much to her, that she had always accepted the general
verdict that she was "pindlin'-lookin'," and joined sincerely in the
chorus of praise which always greeted the rosy cheeks and
solid-looking yellow hair of Delilah Parshley, who lived at the next
house below the old gray one.
Yet it was true that Narcissa had no need of finery; and it was a
pretty picture she made, sitting in the doorway, leaning against the
door-post. Her hair was nearly black, with no gloss or sparkle, only a
soft, dusky cloudiness. It curled in little rings about her broad,
low forehead, and round her soft, pale cheeks. Her eyes were dusky,
too, but more gray than brown, and the only vivid color was in the
scarlet line of her lips. There was nothing unhealthy in her clear
pallor, no hint of sallowness, but a soft, white glow. The nostrils of
her little straight nose were cut high, which gave them a look of
being always slightly dilated; this caused the neighbors to say that
Narcissa White was proud, though dear knew what she had to be proud
of. As for her dress, it was of blue jean, a good deal faded, but all
the better for that; and her white apron, though coarse, was spotless
and carefully starched.
The turkeys seemed to approve of her appearance, for they gathered
eagerly round her, trying to get their beaks into the dish she held,
gobbling and fluttering, and making a great commotion. Narcissa was
fond of the turkeys, and had names for all her favorites. The finest
young gobbler was called Black Diamond, and he was apt to take unfair
advantage of his mistress's partiality, and to get more than his
share. So noisy they all were, that Narcissa did not hear the sound of
approaching footsteps, nor know that some one had spoken to her twice
in vain, and was now standing in silent amusement, watching the
struggle for food.
It was a young man who had come so lightly up the steps of the old
house that no sound had been heard. He had gone first to the front
door, but his knock had brought no answer, and catching the flutter
of Narcissa's apron he had come round to the back porch and was
standing within three feet of the girl and her clamorous brood.
A very young man, hardly more than a boy, yet with a steady, manly
look in his blue eyes, which contradicted the boyish curves of cheek
and chin. He was plainly but neatly dressed, and he carried in one
hand a small satchel, such as travelling agents affect. His eyes were
bright and quick, and glanced about with keen interest, taking in
every outline of the house, but coming always back to the girl who sat
in the doorway, and who was unlike any girl he had seen before. The
house was dim and gaunt, with a look of great age. One did not often,
in this part of the country, see such tall doors, such quaint
chimneys, such irregular outlines of roof and gable. The green-painted
front door, with its brass knocker, and its huge, old-world hinges,
seemed to him a great curiosity; so did the high stone steps, whose
forlorn dignity suffered perpetual insult from the malapert weeds and
grasses that laughed and nodded through the cracks and seams.
And in the dim, sunken doorway sat this girl, herself all soft and
shadowy, with a twilight look in her eyes and in her dusky hair. The
turkeys were the only part of it all that seemed to belong to the sort
of life about here, the hard, bustling life of New England
farm-people, such as he had seen at the other houses along the way.
If it were not for the turkeys, he felt that he should hardly find
courage to speak, for fear it might all melt away into the gathering
twilight,--house, maiden, and all,--and leave nothing but the tall
elms that waved their spectral arms over the sunken roofs.
As it was, however,--as the turkeys were making such a racket that the
girl would never become aware of his presence unless he asserted
himself in some way,--he stepped boldly forward and lifted his hat,
for he had been taught good manners, if he was a tree-agent.
"Excuse me, lady," he said. "Is this the road to Rome?"
Narcissa started violently, and came out of her dream. She had
actually been dressed in the green velvet, and was fastening the last
gold button, ready to step into the chariot that was waiting for
her,--she loved the word chariot, though the pictures in the Bible
made her feel uncertain about the manner of riding in one,--and to
drive along the road, the road to Rome. How strange that at this very
moment some one should ask about the road!
She raised her eyes, still shining with the dream-light, and looked
attentively at the stranger.
"Yes, sir," she answered. "This is the road,--the road to Rome. But
it's a long way from here," she added, rousing herself, and rising
from her seat. "Shoo! go away, now;" and she waved a signal of
dismissal with her apron which the turkeys understood, and at sight of
which they withdrew, not without angry cluckings and gobblings
directed at the disturber of their evening meal.
"Won't you set down and rest a spell? It's ben real hot to-day, though
it's some cooler now."
"It has so!" assented the young man, taking off his hat again to wipe
his brow, and dropping his satchel on the doorstep.
"I should be pleased to set a few minutes, if I'm not intruding. And
do you suppose I could have a drink of water, if it wouldn't be too
much trouble?"
Narcissa went away without a word, and brought back the water,
ice-cold and clear as crystal, in a queer brown mug with a twisted
handle, and an inscription in white letters.
"I'm sorry I haven't got a glass," she said. "But the water is good."
The young man drank deeply, and then looked curiously at the mug. "I'd
rather have this than a glass," he said. "It's quite a curiosity,
ain't it? 'Be Merry!' Well, that's a good sentiment, I'm sure. Thank
you, lady. I'm ever so much obliged."
"You no need to," responded Narcissa, civilly.
"I--I don't suppose you want any trees or plants to set out, do you?"
said the stranger. "I am travelling for a house near Portland, and
I've got some first-rate things,--real chances, I call 'em."
"I--guess not," said Narcissa, with an apprehensive glance over her
shoulder. "I only keep house for the man here,--he's my father's
uncle,--and he don't buy such things. I wish"--she sighed, and looked
longingly at the black satchel. "I suppose you've got roses, have you,
and all kinds of flowers?"
"I should think so!" replied the youth, proudly. "Our house is the
greatest one in the State for roses. Let me show you some pictures."
He opened the satchel and took out a black order-book filled with
brilliant pictures.
"Oh!" cried Narcissa, "I--I guess I'd better not look at 'em. I don't
believe he'd like it. Not but what I'm just as much obliged to you,"
she added, hastily.
But the stranger had already opened the book.
"Just look here, lady," he said. "Why, it can't do no manner of hurt
for you to look at them. Just see here! Here's the Jacqueminot rose,
the finest in the world, some folks think. Why, we've got beds and
beds of it. Splendid grower, and sweet--well there! I can't give you
any idea of it. Cornelia Cook! that's a great rose nowadays. And
here's a white blush, that looks for all the world like--"
Here he stopped suddenly; for it was Narcissa's cheek that the rose
was like, he thought, and it came to him suddenly that he did not want
to say such things to this girl.
The girl at the house below, when he had paid her compliments, had
laughed in his face, well pleased, and seemed to ask for more; but she
was an ordinary girl, like other folks. This soft, shadowy maiden
might shrink away, and vanish in the dusky porch, if he should touch
her rudely.
He need have had no fear, for Narcissa would hardly have heard or
understood his compliment. She was gazing with hungry eyes at the
bright pictures, drinking in every shade of crimson and scarlet and
gold.
"Oh, stop!" she cried eagerly. "Oh, may I read about that one? Ain't
it beautiful! May I?"
"Well, I should think you might!" replied the gallant agent, holding
the book toward her. "Here, lean right over me; I'd like to read it
too."
"'This grand rose,'" Narcissa read aloud,"'has created an epoch in
rose-growing. Of free habit and luxurious growth, the plants form the
most splendid ornament of garden or hot-house. The beautiful,
perfectly-shaped flowers show a marvellous blending of colors, in
which a rich apricot predominates, shading into light pink, bright
canary, and pale yellow. The outer petals are grandly recurved,
forming a fine contrast to the Camellia-like inner petals. With its
rare and exquisite fragrance, its bold and beautiful foliage, and the
unparalleled profusion with which its splendid blossoms are borne, we
claim that this rose is absolutely _without a rival_.'"
Narcissa drew a long breath and looked up, her eyes full of awe and
admiration. "Ain't that elegant?" she said simply. "They have great
writers there, don't they?"
The youth smiled, as he thought of little Mr. Bimsey, who "got up" the
catalogues and kept the accounts; then, reminded by this and by the
fading light that he had still a good way to go before nightfall, he
added, rising reluctantly from his seat,--
"I must be going, I guess. You haven't any notion how far it might be
to Rome, have you, lady?"
Narcissa shook her head.
"It's a long way," she said. "When Uncle Pinker goes there with the
turkeys in the fall, it takes him the whole day to go and come."
"You haven't got a map of the county?" persisted the youth. "I'd ought
to have one myself, and I guess I shall have to get me one. I'm a
stranger in these parts."
Narcissa shook her head again. "We haven't got any kind of a map, as I
know of," she said; but next moment her face brightened. "We've got a
picture of Rome," she said,--"a real handsome picture. Would you like
to see it?"
"Well, if it ain't too much trouble."
Narcissa led the way into the house, cautioning the stranger to tread
softly. "Uncle Pinker is asleep," she said. "He's real old, and he
sleeps in the afternoon, most times. He's so deef, he wouldn't hear
you most likely, but you never can count on deef folks. Not but what
he'd be pleased to see you," she added, with a doubtful look at a
closed door as she passed it.
"I'd ought to make you acquainted with my name, seem's though," said
the agent, following her into a dim, dreary room. "My name's
Patten,--Romulus Patten." He paused, and then went on: "Folks always
ask how I got my name, so I get into the way of firing right ahead
before they ask. My mother got it out of the history book. She was a
great hand for history, my mother was. It seems queer, my going to
Rome, don't it? They made consid'able fun about it, down to our place,
but I'm used to that, and don't mind it."
There was no answering gleam in Narcissa's lovely eyes. "Romulus? was
he in the Revolution?" she asked. "I had to leave school before we got
through history. I'd only got as far as the Battle of Lexington, when
Aunt Pinker died, and I had to come and keep house for Uncle Pinker.
It was real interestin'," she added, with a little sigh of regret, "I
wish't I could have finished history."
Romulus Patten flushed with shame and anger,--not at the girl, but at
the sordid people who had kept her in ignorance. He had gone through
General History himself, and having a good memory, considered himself
very well up in such matters. When he came back, he thought, perhaps
he might manage to stop a spell, and tell her a little about things.
Romulus in the Revolution! it was a scandalous shame, and she so sweet
and pretty!
But here was the picture of Rome, and Narcissa turning with gentle
pride to introduce him to it.
"Ain't it handsome?" she cried with enthusiasm. "I do like to look at
it the most of anything, seem's though. I think you're real fortunate
to be going there, Mr.--Mr. Patten."
She was silent, gazing with delight that was fresh every time her eyes
rested on the beloved picture; and Romulus Patten was silent too.
What was it he saw?
A steel engraving, dim and gray, like the house, like the walls on
which it hung; framed in dingy gold, spotted and streaked. Within, as
in a dull mirror, appeared towers and temples, columned porticos and
triumphal arches: the whole seemed to be steeped in pale sunshine; in
the background rose a monstrous shape which Romulus' practised eye,
familiar with the illustrations in the General History, recognized as
the Coliseum. "That's Rome!" said Narcissa, softly. "Ain't it
elegant?"
The young man glanced at her, with a light of sympathetic amusement in
his eyes. This was her little joke; he had hardly thought she would
make jokes, she was so quiet. But the smile faded into a look of
bewilderment, which quickly strove to efface itself; for Narcissa was
not in jest. She was gazing at the picture with a rapt look, with
almost passionate enjoyment. She had forgotten him for the moment, and
had entered the city of her dreams as she so often entered it, robed
in velvet and satin (it was the tansy-colored velvet this time, and
the buttons were very splendid indeed, and she had a bunch of roses in
her hand), riding in a chariot. She was passing under those wonderful
arches; that soft, mysterious sunshine wrapped her in a cloud of
glory. Presently she would meet other beings, splendidly dressed like
herself, who would greet her with smiles, and tell her of other
strange and beautiful things that she was going to see. Ah, to be in
Rome! to be really going there!
"Ain't it handsome?" she repeated, turning her soft eyes on her
companion. "You're real fortunate to be going there."
Romulus Patten stammered. "You--you're sure that is Rome?" he said.
"This same Rome, down east here? It don't hardly seem just like a
down-east place, does it?"
The soft eyes grew wide, and the lips smiled a little. "Why, it says
so!" said Narcissa. "See here, right under the picture, 'ROME.' So it
couldn't be any place else, could it?"
"I--I suppose not," murmured Romulus, hanging his head, like one
found in an unpardonable ignorance.
"I hope to go there some day," the girl went on. "It's never been so I
could, yet; and folks don't go much from about here. Ain't it queer?
They'll go the other way, to Tupham, and Cyrus, and other places
that's just like--like to home here,--" and she gave a little
disparaging glance along the bleak road, with its straggling willows
and birches,--"and there's scarcely anybody goes to Rome. And it like
that!" she added, with another look of loving reverence at the old
picture.
"You said something about your uncle going," suggested Romulus.
"Hasn't he ever told you about the place,--whether it's like the
picture?"
Narcissa shook her head. "I asked him last time he come back," she
said. "I've asked him two or three times; but all he does is nod his
head and laugh, the way he has. He ain't one to talk, Uncle Pinker
ain't. He goes to Rome once every fall, when he kills the turkeys. The
biggest part of 'em goes the other way, to Tupham and on beyond, but
he allers takes some portion to Rome. He says they're great on turkeys
there. I should think they would be, shouldn't you?"
This was a long speech for Narcissa, and she relapsed into silence and
the picture.
"And you live all alone here with a deef old man who don't talk?"
said Romulus Patten. "Excuse _me_, Miss--well, you haven't told me
your name, have you?" and he laughed a little.
"Narcissa," was the reply. "Narcissa White."
"Thank you!" said the well-mannered Romulus. "You live all alone with
him, and don't see no company? It's lonesome for you, ain't it?"
"I--don't--know," Narcissa answered thoughtfully. "I never thought
much about it's bein' lonesome. I have the turkeys, and they're a good
deal of company: and I--I think about things." A faint color stole
into her clear white cheek, as she remembered the velvet gown. She
supposed a man would consider such thoughts "triflin'."
"Don't you see anything of the neighbors?" the young man persisted.
"There's a young lady down at the next house, half a mile below
here,--wide-awake looking girl, with yeller hair and red cheeks, looks
some like a geranium; don't you know her?"
"That's Delilah Parshley!" said Narcissa. "She's real handsome, don't
you think so? No, I don't see her, only to meetin' sometimes. I guess
she don't care to go much with folks up this way. Her friends is
mostly the other way, on the Tupham road. Their house sets on the
corner, you know."
Narcissa did not know--how should she?--that Delilah Parshley and the
other girls of her sort considered her "a little wanting," because she
was silent, and never seemed interested in the doings of the
neighbors, or of such stray travellers as came along the road to Rome.
She felt kindly toward the Parshleys, as toward all the "meetin'
folks;" but she rarely held speech with them, and was "gettin' as dumb
as the old man was deef," the neighbors were beginning to say.
"But haven't you got any folks of your own?" this persistent young man
went on. "I--I hope I'm not too forth-puttin', Miss White, but I'd
like to know."
"I'm sure you're real kind to ask!" replied Narcissa, who was not used
to having any one care to ask her questions.
"Yes, I've got _some_ folks. Father's livin', but he's married again,
and there's more children, and he was glad to have me find a chance;
and it was so that I was glad, too," she added, with no resentment in
her tone, but a touch of sadness, which made the ready color come into
those tell-tale cheeks of Romulus Patten.
"It ain't right," he said hotly. "I'll be switched if it's right.
Ain't there a better chance you could get, somewheres round here, if
you don't feel to go fur away? If you did feel to make a change,
there's lots of chances down our way. I'd be real pleased to be of
assistance, if there was any ways I could; I would, now, Miss White."
Narcissa looked a little alarmed.
"You're real good," she said. "But I ain't thinkin' of any change.
Uncle Pinker means well by me, and the work ain't too hard, 'cept come
hayin' time, and along through the spring, sometimes, when I have to
help in the gardin. I'm sure I'm obliged to _you_!" she added
gratefully, with a shy, sweet look in her eyes that made Romulus feel
as if the day had grown suddenly warm again.
"Well!" he said, with an effort, "I reely must be going, I suppose.
I've had a good rest, and I must be getting on."
But Narcissa was not ready to have him go now. Her heart had been
stirred by the unwonted kindness, the interest which this handsome
stranger with the kind eyes had shown in her, Narcissa White, who was
of no account to any one in the world. Her heart was stirred, and now
she must show her gratitude in such simple wise as she could. She made
him sit down at the table, and brought him doughnuts and milk, and the
prettiest apples she could find in the cellar. In fear and trembling
she took from the cupboard a tumbler of apple jelly, wondering as she
did so what Uncle Pinker would say, and whether he would call it
stealing. She had made the sweetmeat herself, and had earned the money
to buy a half-dozen tumblers, by braiding rugs for Mrs. Parshley. She
had picked the apples, too. Altogether, she thought she had a right to
offer the jelly to the kind stranger.
He was delighted with his little feast, and pronounced the jelly the
best he had ever tasted. She made it herself? he wanted to know! girls
were smart on the road to Rome, he guessed. He drank her health from
the brown mug, and again she apologized for not having a glass to give
him. "There is good glasses," she said with a blush, "but Uncle Pinker
keeps 'em locked up. I broke one when I first come here, two years
ago, and he's never let me touch one sence."
Romulus Patten muttered something in confidence to the brown mug, but
Narcissa did not hear it. She was too happy to think that other people
might consider Uncle Pinker a mean old curmudgeon. She felt a warmth
about the heart, wholly strange to her starved and barren life. It had
been dear and precious to dream, oh, yes! but here was reality. Here
was some one like the people she dreamed about, only real flesh and
blood, instead of shadows. He cared, this wonderful person, really
cared, to be kind to her, to say pleasant words, and smile, and look
at her with his bright, gentle eyes. And he was going to Rome! that
was almost the best part of all, for now she could fancy him there,
and would have some one to speak to, when she made her shadowy
journeys to the Dream City.
She was hardly sorry when, the simple feast over, her new friend rose
to go. It could not last forever, and Uncle Pinker would be waking up
soon, and was apt to be "a little set," as she charitably expressed
it, when he first woke. She made apologies for not having roused the
old man, and was sure he would have been "real pleased" to see Mr.
Patten, if it had been any other time of the day. She was a little
startled when Romulus held out his hand at parting. She had an idea
that people only shook hands at funerals; but she laid her little
brown palm in the warm, strong one held out to her, and felt a cordial
pressure that brought the tears to her eyes,--the sweet, forlorn gray
eyes that never guessed at their own sweetness or sadness! Romulus
Patten looked long into them before he let the little hand go.
"I sha'n't forget you, Miss White," he cried. "You may be sure of
that; and I hope you won't forget me, either, for a spell. I may
stop on my way back, if I don't have to go round another way when I
leave Rome. I'll try my best to fix it so as I can come back this
way, and then--then perhaps you'll let me call you Narcissa.
Good-by--Narcissa!"
"Good-by!" echoed Narcissa; and then she stood on the doorstep and
watched him, her new friend, the first friend she had ever had, as
looking back often, and waving his hand once and twice in sign of
farewell, he passed along down the road to Rome.
Part II.
WAKING.
"Good mornin', sir; can I sell you anything this mornin'?"
It was a strong, clear voice that broke rudely in upon Uncle Pinker's
morning meditations as he sat in the doorway (the same setting that
had framed Narcissa yesterday, but how different a picture!), smoking
his short black pipe.
"Can I sell you anything?" repeated the voice, with an imperious
intonation. Uncle Pinker looked up. The sound was a mere murmur in his
ears; but when he saw the figure before him, he recognized it for one
he had sometimes seen on the road, and knew instinctively what was
wanted. "Ga-a-ah!" said Uncle Pinker.
This remark was a favorite one of the old gentleman's, and though no
one knew its precise derivation, there was no doubt of its being the
quintessence of scornful refusal. He used it constantly, but it never
had such bitter force as when he was asked to spend money. "Ga-a-ah!"
said Uncle Pinker again.
"What might you mean by that?" asked the newcomer, with some asperity.
"That ain't no form of salutation ever I heard yet. Haven't you a
civil tongue to use, old gentleman? You're ancient enough to have
learned manners, if you'll excuse me sayin' so."
The old man snarled again. "I'm stone deef!" he said. "I don't hear
nothin' you say, nor yet I don't want to hear. You needn't waste no
time, fur as I'm concerned."
"Stone deef, be you?" returned the pedlar. "Well, that has its
compensations, too. You wouldn't buy anything if you had the hearin'
of ten, and now I can have the pleasure of tellin' you what I
think of you. You skinny, starved old weasel, you're about the
wickedest-lookin' piece I ever set eyes on. Real old screw, you are,
if ever I saw one. Pity your folks, if you've got any; more likely
you've starved 'em all off, though, and are skeered of dyin' yourself,
fear of havin' another funeral to pay for. The Lord leaves folks like
you for a warnin' to others, understand?--set up, kind of, to show how
ugly a critter can be when he tries. Oh, you needn't snarl at me. I'm
enjoyin' myself real well, I tell you. There's other ways to have a
good time besides sellin', if it is my trade. Guess I'll set down a
spell, uncle, sence you _are_ so pressin'."
Uncle Pinker was almost foaming with rage by this time. He could hear
no distinct words, but the insulting nature of the stranger's speech
was evident from look and gesture. He was just wondering whether his
strength would suffice to throw himself on the intruder, when a new
figure appeared on the scene,--Narcissa, who had been busy in the back
kitchen, and catching some high note of the stranger's scornful
speech, now came hurrying out to see what was the matter.
She found Uncle Pinker quivering in his chair, his lean, veined hands
clutching the arms, his little red eyes starting from his head with
impotent fury; and sitting on the doorstep, looking up into his face
with a smile of calm amusement, was the strangest figure Narcissa had
ever seen.
A person of middle age, with strongly marked features, and a
countenance of keen intelligence, but dressed in a singular manner. A
suit of brown cloth, rather worn, but well-brushed and neat; loose
trousers, and an odd, long-skirted coat, reaching to the knees, both
coat and trousers trimmed with rows of narrow black-velvet ribbon. The
person's hair was cropped short; the person's head was surmounted by a
curious structure, half cap, half helmet, like that worn by Miss
Deborah in "Cranford," only of far humbler materials. Beside the
person, on the doorstep, lay a bag, of the kind affected by pedlars,
lank and shiny, and particularly unattractive in appearance.
Such was the individual at whom Narcissa White was now staring with
eyes very wide open, her stare being returned by a quizzical gaze,
half smiling, and wholly shrewd and observant.
"Mornin', young lady," said the strong, clear voice. "Wonderin' what
I be, are ye? fish or flesh, or red herrin', or what, hey? Well, I'll
put you out of your misery. I'm a woman, that's what I am; the folks
calls me Bloomer Joe. Now, then, do you want to buy anything of me?"
Here her tone changed, and her voice rose and fell in a kind of chant,
dwelling with dramatic emphasis on a telling phrase here and there.
"Buy any lace, threads, or needles, pins--_or_--essences? Here's a
looking-glass to see your face in--prettiest face I've seen along the
road! (I tell that to every girl I see, and most of 'em believe it;
but you ain't that kind, so you shall have the joke instead.) Real
celluloid ivory combs, fit for the President's wife, sure enough. Gold
beads, stockin'-supporters, teeth-brushes,--_and_--stickin'-plaster."
Here she dropped back into a conversational tone, opening her bag as
she did so, and drawing forth some of its treasures.
"Just look at this lace, young lady! strong enough to hang yourself
with, if you was feelin' that way, or to hang the old gentleman here,
if you was feelin' another. I know which way I'd feel, quick enough.
Not your father, is he?" she added, seeing a look of distress in
Narcissa's eyes.
"Oh, no," said Narcissa, speaking for the first time. "But--he's my
uncle,--at least, my father's uncle; and I--guess you'd better not
talk so, please."
"All right," said the stranger. "I won't, not if it is any trouble to
you. It would be meat and potatoes and apple-pie for me, if he was my
uncle, to hear him get his rights for once in a way; but I see you're
one of the soft-hearted ones. Want any salve? Here's a kind that will
cure corns, bunions, rheumatism, croup, sore-throat, backache,
horse-ail, and colic; cure most anything except a broken heart, and
won't do a mite of harm to that. But you don't need any salve, and the
old gentleman, he's past it. Well, then, here's ribbons, all colors of
the rainbow,--red, yeller, blue, see? handsome they are, and cheap as
good counsel. Aha! you'd like to see them, hey?"
Narcissa had indeed changed color at sight of the bright ribbons, and
she now gave an anxious glance at Uncle Pinker, who was still fuming
and snorting in his chair.
"You, Narcissy White, send this critter away, can't ye?" he snarled;
"or else go into the house yourself, and go to work, not stand foolin'
here, with the work all on the floor. Go 'long, d' ye hear? This
woman, or feller, or whatever she calls herself, can talk till she's
hoarse; she won't hurt me, nor she won't get nothin' out of me."
"Could I get a drink of water, do you s'pose?" the pedlar asked
quietly, paying no attention to the angry old man. "Needn't trouble to
bring it out; I'll go right into the house with you, if you've no
objections."
She followed Narcissa into the house before the latter could make any
remonstrance, and shut the door after her.
"He don't reelly disturb me," she said, "not a mite; but we can trade
better in here. Let me try some of the ribbons on your hair. I don't
often see such hair as this on my tramps, and that's no compliment,
but the plain truth."
"Oh!" cried Narcissa, in distress. "You're real kind, but please
don't. I haven't got any money to buy things with, and I couldn't take
your time for nothing. They are handsome, ain't they? Oh, that yellow
is just elegant, isn't it? It's like the buttons; I mean like the
tansy blossoms. I thank you for showin' them to me, I'm sure, but it
ain't any use for you to."
"Don't he pay you for workin' here?" asked the pedlar, with a sharp
glance.
"Yes, he does pay me," Narcissa answered,--"a dollar and a half a
week. But--but I don't get it very reg'lar, sometimes, and I'm saving
up to buy me a dress. I need one bad, to wear to meetin'."
The pedlar frowned. It was against her principles to leave any house
where she knew there was money, without selling at least a box of
salve; but this seemed a hard case.
"A dollar and a half a week!" she muttered scornfully. "The old
caraway seed! he'd better go and live in Rome, and be done with it.
He'll find plenty of company there."
Narcissa looked up with wide-open eyes.
"Why do you say that?" she asked.
"Because Rome is the skinniest place on this round earth," was the
reply; "and I think 'twould suit your uncle down to the ground."
Still the girl gazed. "I guess you're mistaken," she said quietly. "I
guess you never was there, was you?"
"Never till yesterday," replied the woman, "and never want to be there
again. You see, this isn't my own country at all, as you may say. I
belong in another part of the State, and most generally keep to my own
beat, havin' my regular customers, understand? and goin' round amongst
'em. But oncet in a while the fancy takes me to roam a little, and see
other parts; and so I come round through Damascus and Solon, and
passed through Rome yesterday."
"Oh!" cried Narcissa, breathlessly. "You did? do tell me! and wasn't
it elegant? I don't see how you could come away. Did you walk about,
and see all them handsome buildings? and did you see the folks?"
The pedlar gazed at her in wonder. The girl's eyes were like stars,
her whole face alight with enthusiasm. What did it mean?
"Handsome buildin's?" she repeated. "In Rome? I'll tell you what I
saw, child, and then you'll know. I saw the forlornest place on this
earth, I don't care where the next may be. I saw rocks and turkeys,
and turkeys and rocks. The street (if you can call it a street;
'twould be called a hog-wallow, down where I come from) is solid rock
where it ain't mud, and solid mud where it ain't rock. There's a house
here and a house there, and they all look as if they was tryin' to get
away from each other, but didn't darse to move for fear of fallin'
down.
"The folks I saw were as lean as their own turkeys, and I can't say no
further than that. I tried to sell 'em some of my salve; told 'em
'twould heal the skin where 'twas broke with the bones comin' through,
but they was past jokin' with.
"I tell you, child, Rome is the--Why, what's the matter?" The good
woman stopped suddenly, for Narcissa was trembling all over, and her
face shone white in the dim, half-lighted room.
"I--I don't understand you!" she cried wildly. "There's some mistake;
you went to the wrong place, and never saw Rome at all. Look here!"
and she led the way swiftly across the hall, into the other room, the
room into which she had taken Romulus Patten the day before. She
almost ran up to the picture, and motioned the pedlar, with an
imperious gesture, strange in so gentle a creature, to look at it.
"That is Rome!" cried Narcissa. "You went to the wrong place, I tell
you. This--this is Rome!"
The woman drew out a pair of spectacles, and fitted them on her nose
with exasperating deliberation. She took a long look at the picture,
and then turned to the trembling girl, with a kind light of pity in
her eyes struggling with amusement.
"You poor--deluded--child!" she said at length. "Who ever told you
that was Rome, I should like to know?"
"But it says so!" cried Narcissa. "Can't you read? 'ROME.' There it
is, in plain letters; and I--don't--" she wanted to say "I don't
believe you!" but the blue eyes that met hers steadily showed nothing
but truth and kindness.
"So it is Rome, dear!" said the pedlar, speaking now very gently. "But
it's ancient Rome, over in Europe; Italy, they call the country. Where
the ancient Romans lived, don't you know? Julius Cæsar, and all those
fellers who cut up such didoes, hundreds of years ago? Don't tell me
you never went to school, nor learned any history."
"I--I went for a spell!" Narcissa faltered. "I had to leave when I was
fourteen, because I was wanted to home, and we hadn't only got to the
Battle of Lexington in history. I did hope to learn about the
Revolution, to home, but father's wife didn't think much of readin',
and she burned up the book."
There was a silence, and then the good-natured pedlar began fumbling
in her bag.
"It's a livin' shame!" she cried indignantly. "Here--no, it ain't,
neither. Well! I did think, much as could be, that I had two or three
little books here, and I should have been pleased to give you one,
dear, just for keeps, you know. But they don't seem to be here. Well,
never mind! I was goin' to ask if you wouldn't like this piece of
yeller ribbon you seemed to take to. It's a real good piece, and I
should be pleased--I declare, child, I do feel bad to have spoiled
your pretty notion of Rome. I s'pose you thought likely you'd go there
some day, hey? well, well! sit down, and let me put this ribbon on
your hair. You no need to be scairt of me. I act kind o' wild
sometimes, like I did with your uncle, but it's four parts fun. I'm
well known up our way, and anybody'll tell you I come of good stock,
if I am crazy enough to wear sensible clothes, that don't hender me
walkin' nor settin'. Mis' Transom, my name is. And he called you
Narcissy, didn't he? Why, I had a cousin once, name of Narcissy; it's
not a common name either, and I allers thought it was real pretty. Set
down here, dear, and let's talk a spell."
Thus the kind woman rattled on, watching the girl keenly the while.
She was making time for her, giving her a chance to recover from what
was evidently a heavy blow.
But Narcissa scarcely heard her. She was dazed; her dream was
shattered, her glorious city laid in ruins, the beauty and romance of
her whole life dashed away, as a rude touch dashes the dew from the
morning grass.
As she sat, trying to realize it, trying to think that it really was
not so much, that there would be other pleasant things, perhaps, to
fill the barren working days, and gild the grayness of the long lonely
Sabbaths,--as she sat thus, a new thought flashed into her mind,
piercing like the thrust of a sword.
Her friend, Romulus Patten! She had sent him off on a false scent, had
lied to him about the place, the city--she could hardly bear even to
think of its dishonored name now. He had gone there, thinking to find
what she had told him about,--the stately houses, the arches, the soft
sunshine gilding all. What would he think of her when he found it was
all a cheat, a lie? He had been kind to her, had seemed to care about
her as nobody had ever done in her forlorn young life; and this was
how she had repaid him!
She started up, shrinking as if from some cruel sting. "I must go and
tell him!" she cried. "I lied to him, though I didn't know it was a
lie. I must go and find him, and tell him I didn't mean to."
"Tell who?" cried the pedlar, catching her by the arm. "What is it
troubles you so, Narcissy? Who did you lie to, I should like to know?
Don't believe she could tell a decent lie if 'twas to save her own
soul," she added to herself.
But Narcissa did not heed her.
She had taken down her sunbonnet from a nail, and was tying it under
her chin with trembling fingers, with a feverish haste that took no
note of anything.
"Where are you going?" cried Mrs. Transom, now beginning to be
frightened at the girl's distracted looks. "You're never going out of
the house feeling like this? You'll have a fit of sickness, sure as
you're alive, and then where'll you be? and 'tis all foolishness, too,
I'll be bound. I can't understand a word you say. And there's a storm
coming up, too. I see it as I was coming along, and was reckoning on
finding shelter here when I fust stopped to speak to the old
gentleman. There, hear the thunder this very minute! Narcissy! Why,
good land of deliverance, she's gone!"
* * * * *
The storm came on very suddenly,--first, a low bank of cloud heaving
in sight on the western horizon, long and misshapen, like the back of
a kraken; then the whole monster revealed, rising across the sky,
tossing monstrous arms about, showing ugly tints of yellow, ugly
depths of purple and black.
There was no lightning at first, only low mutterings of thunder, and
every now and then a pale lifting of the darkness, as if the monster
were opening his cavernous jaws, showing glimpses of dim horror
within. Then, of a sudden, with no note of warning, the whole sky
sprang into flame, the whole air was a roar and a bellow, deafening
the ears, stunning the senses,--and the storm broke over the road to
Rome.
The rain struck aslant, driving a spray before it, as of a mountain
stream. In five minutes no road was to be seen,--only a long stretch
of brown water, hissing and writhing under the scourge of the rain and
wind. A horse came plodding carefully along, crouching together as
well as he could, picking his way through the water. The two men in
the buggy behind him were crouching, too, and trying to hide behind
the rubber boot. It was some comfort to think that they were trying to
keep dry, though both knew that they were already drenched to the
skin.
"It's lucky for me that I met you," said the younger of the two,
shaking himself, and sending a shower of spray in all directions.
"P'r'aps 'tis just as well," replied the other man, with a chuckle.
"You'd hardly have known yourself from a muskrat by this time, if
you'd had to foot it from Rome here. Been stoppin' there?"
"Stopping as long as I cared to," said the youth, who was no other
than our friend Romulus Patten. "I got there last night, and was good
and ready to come away this morning. I'm travelling for Brown's
Nurseries, and there don't seem to be any call for any of our goods in
Rome. Stone-crop's the only plant they raise much of, I guess."
"Well, that's so," said the elder man. "That's so, every time. I never
knew but one man that could make anything grow in Rome, and he carted
all the dirt three miles, over from North Podley, before he could make
a seed grow. Yes, sir, he did so. Mighty poor country up that way.
Some say the Rome folks don't see any garden-truck from year's end to
year's end, and that if you ask a Rome girl to cook you up a mess of
string beans, she takes the store beans and runs 'em on a string, and
boils 'em that way; but I dono. I'm from Vi-enny way myself."
"My gracious! what's that?"
The whole world had turned to livid white for a moment, dazzling and
blinding them; but still they had seen something on the road,
something like a human form, torn and buffeted by the wind and the
furious rain, but staggering on towards them with uncertain steps.
"My God! it's a woman!" cried Romulus Patten. "Stop your horse, and
let me get out. A woman, alone in this storm!"
He sprang to the ground, and holding his arm before his face to keep
off the blinding rain, made his way towards the forlorn figure
splashing through the water, now ankle deep in the road, stumbling,
often on the point of falling.
"Hold up, lady!" he called out, in his cheery voice. "There's friends
here! Hold up just a minute!"
At the sound of his voice the woman stopped and seemed to shudder and
clasp her hands. "I never meant it!" she cried out wildly. "I can't
see you, I'm most blind, but I know your voice. I never meant to lie
to you about Rome. I--thought--'twas all true; and when I found out,
I--came--to tell you. I never meant to send you there on a lie."
"Narcissa!" cried Romulus Patten. "Oh, Lord! Oh, you poor little
thing! and you thought I didn't know? I'd ought to be shot, that's
what I ought to be. Here, you poor little thing, let me take your
hands! They're like wet ice, and you're shivering all over. Oh, dear
me! come with me, and get right into this buggy out of the rain. Oh,
Lord! and I let you go on thinking I didn't know!"
Half leading, half carrying her, he made his way to the buggy, and
then fairly lifted her in his strong young arms to lay her on the
seat; but here an obstacle was interposed in the shape of another arm
as strong as his, and a good deal bigger. "Easy, there!" said the
owner of the buggy. "Seems to me you're makin' yourself rather too
free, young feller. Do you think I'm goin' to have that gal brought in
here, runnin' all the rivers of Babylon? Who in Jerusalem is she,
anyway? Some of your folks?"
Romulus Patten's face was streaming with cold rain, but he flushed as
if a flame had swept over him.
"She's the young lady I'm going to marry," he said. "Will you take
her in, or shall I carry her home this way?"
"Now you're talking!" the stranger said, removing his arm and making
way. "Why didn't you speak up before, sonny? Here, give me a holt of
her!" He lifted Narcissa gently into the buggy, and drew her close to
his side, laying her head well up on his shoulder so that she could
breathe easily. "Family man," he explained. "Gals of my own. Now you
reach under the seat there, and bring out a shawl you'll find."
Romulus obeyed, and half angry, half pleased, watched the stranger as
he deftly wrapped the shawl round the fainting girl, and put her
dripping hair tenderly off her face.
"Allers take a shawl along," he explained further. "Wife enjoys poor
health, and have to be ready for a change of wind. Comes in handy,
don't it? Now get in, young feller, and tell me where to drive to. You
needn't look down in the mouth, either, 'cause you don't know
everything in creation yet. Time enough to learn, and you're likely to
learn easy, I should say.
"And you rest comfortable, my dear," he added, speaking to Narcissa as
if she were a small child. "Here's your friend alongside of you, and
you're just as safe as you would be in the best stuffed chair in the
settin'-room at home. Fetch your breath, like a good girl, and try to
look about you."
But Narcissa heard never a word, for she had fainted.
An hour later, Romulus Patten and Mrs. Transom were sitting by
Narcissa's bedside, watching her. She had fallen into a deep,
childlike sleep, and their low voices did not disturb her.
"The old gentleman was so mad he was all cheesed up," the pedlar was
saying. "There! I was fairly sorry for him, old weasel as he is; so I
let him go on for a spell, till he was clean tuckered out, and then I
e'en took him up and put him to bed, same as if he was a child. Glad
enough he was to get there too, if he was mad. Then I took and made
him some warm drink, and gave him to understand I'd stay by till
Narcissy come back, and here I be. And now, young man," she added,
fixing her keen blue eyes on Romulus's face, "I've got a word to say
to you. You let fall something when you was bringin' this child in--I
won't say that I wasn't mighty glad to see her, and you, too,--but you
let on something about keepin' company with her. Now, I want to know
right here, what you meant, and who you are, and all about it. Oh, you
may look at my pants much as you're a mind to. I come of good folks,
and I dress as seems fit to me, and I don't care in any way, shape, or
manner what folks say or think. I've been snoopin' round some, since I
put that old man to bed, and I found the family Bible; and this child
is the lawful daughter of my cousin, Narcissy Merrill, that I haven't
heard of this twenty years. Bein' so, I'm goin' to stand by her, as is
right and proper; so, now I'll hear what you've got to say. I've as
good a right to do for her as that old skimp-jack in there, if he is
her father's uncle."
Romulus Patten spoke out frankly. He had "taken to" Narcissa from the
first moment he saw her. When was that? Well, it wasn't long ago, it
was true. It was only yesterday; but he wasn't one to change, and he
had never seen a girl yet that he would look twice at. And when she
came, in all that awful storm, just to tell him,--here the young man
choked a little, and the woman liked him the better for it,--he made
up his mind then, he went on, all in a minute, that she should be his
wife; and she should, if so be she was willing. He would go back to
the place and see if he could get a job in the garden; he might have
had one now, but he was some tired and had thought it would rest him
to travel a spell. He would quit travelling now, and had little doubt
that he could have a good place.
He knew of a pleasant rent--in that part of the country a hired
tenement is known as a "rent"--with four rooms, that belonged to a
friend of his, and he could get that, he guessed. In short, the sooner
Narcissa got away from Uncle Pinker the better, in his opinion, and he
was ready to take her, the first day she would go. That was all he
had to say for himself; but he presumed Mr. Brown would give him a
character if he was asked. He had worked for Browns three years, and
had no reason to think they weren't satisfied with him.
When Romulus had finished his little speech, which left him flushed
and tremulous, yet with a brave light in his eyes, and a tender look
as he glanced towards his love where she lay sleeping quietly, Mrs.
Transom gazed at him for a while in silence; then she held out her
hand and grasped his heartily.