inquiring what fresh remorse could have seized on Troffater's
conscience, and what might be the object of his journey.
Under the joint management of Fabens and George Ludlow, for a period of
good prices and great prosperity, the farm yielded a return of a
portion of the sum lost by Fairbanks, and a year or so was anticipated
as time sufficient to retrieve the entire misfortune, if misfortune it
might really now be called; and place the family and their young friend
in very desirable circumstances. The smaller farm yielded an extra
increase for receiving the care and culture formerly bestowed on the
fields that were sold; the seasons seemed more genial; the rains more
timely, and the sun more liberal in his bland, warm beams, than for
years gone by. The beneficence of God was pictured out on all the
glowing sky; blooming in all the fields and woods, and sung by the
birds and breezes. Lessons of grief, quite as much as those of joy,
had taught them to discover the signs of that beneficence; to rejoice
in all its light, and repose in its blissful promise.
Mr. and Mrs. Fabens had arrived at a period of life when old age was
approaching, yet most tardy in its advances; and their relation as
parents was most interesting; and their convictions and sentiments, as
trusting Christians, gave daily refreshment to their souls.
As one good consequence of the late trial, our excellent farmer
considered his cure of a love of praise, which had grown insensibly
upon him, and commenced already to make him unhappy, by warping his
independence, and making him almost a slave to the vain opinions of
men. As another effect in which he discovered a blessing, it weakened
his worldly cares, and taught him to set his affections on things above.
There was a time of general happiness in Summerfield. Some of the old
people had passed away; among whom Mr. Flaxman and old Mr. and Mrs.
Waldron were much lamented. Many worthy sons were left behind; and
several who had been prodigals were now reformed, to render the old
neighborhood pleasant and happy.
Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were still alive, and possessed a fine property,
and rejoiced in the society of several dutiful children. Colwell and
his wife were still alive and happy. The Teezles had not succeeded
greatly in worldly affairs; but they had a home and a good family, and
none saw pleasanter days. Uncle Walter and Aunt Huldah lived in a ripe
old age; and he loved a hunt and a fine story, and she loved stubbing
and scouring still; and could boast the whitest linen, the whitest
floor, and clearest maple sugar. And these had all learnt wisdom since
the feast at Aunt Polly Waldron's, and were more refined in thought and
speech.
Tilly Troffater carried still about him, as he did his scars, a few of
his early habits and characteristics; as for instance, his love of
levity slightly corrected; his love of indolence, and an occasional
glass of whisky; his swaggering loquacity, a little improved; and once
in a while the mischief of the busybody. But all regarded him, on the
whole, as a reformed man, and were quick to give him credit and
encouragement, where they could see any change for good; expecting that
he would carry a few peculiarities with him to his grave.
George Ludlow was solidly esteemed and affectionately regarded as a son
by Mr. and Mrs. Fabens, while Fanny responded to his sentiments, and
answered his heart with something deeper, and more a principle of her
soul, than common passional love. He was esteemed by the neighbors as
quite a second Fabens; and those few vain youths and maidens who had
affected contempt for his humble parentage and life, were now compelled
to blush for their heartless folly, and respect him. The week arrived
in which George and Fanny were to be married, and great preparations
were made for the happy bridal day.
XXVIII.
CONCLUSION.
Life in the country has many scenes for pictures. Its customs and
festivities, though sometimes rude and homely, are never without their
romance. The country courtship may not be conducted by laws laid down
in books of etiquette, but it is all the more romantic for its frank
simplicity. The city courtship may appear the most genteel in the
splendid parlor, with the lover on a sofa displaying his stocks and
certificates of wealth to the matron, and through her winning his
sweetheart; while the maiden at her piano opens absorbing ears to catch
his wooing words; but all must confess the country courtship makes the
best picture, with the ruddy maiden in the farm-yard, in her cool
sun-bonnet and clean checkered frock; the bloom of the season on her
cheeks, and its fragrance in her breath; making music with sweet
streams in her milk-pail; while her lover at her elbow, or leaning over
the wall, as jocund as a bobolink, tells her of his horses and cows;
his wheat-lands and meadow-lands; his berry-fields; his melon-patch,
and maple-orchard; his nice little rural home, and his pleasant love of
her.
The country wedding also makes a charming picture of one of the
happiest scenes under heaven; and it was determined by the Fabenses
that Fanny's wedding should lack no joy or enjoyment which they had
means to give. The season was never more lovely, and the fruits of the
garden, orchard, and field were never more abundant. The commodious
farm-house had been re-painted, and it looked as well as new; its doors
could open to a goodly company, and a goodly company came before three
o'clock to make merry with them.
Neighbor Nimblet and his wife were the first of the wedding-guests who
entered; and Nancy and her husband entered soon after. Then came Uncle
Walter over the fields, a-foot, with his coat on his arm, in his new
wide-brimmed hat, long Lon'on-brown vest, with gilt buttons and scarlet
back; his white wristbands turned up, and white collar turned down;
enjoying, in the tidiest way, a clean little quid of Cavendish, and
selecting and cooking a story for the feast. And Aunt Huldah came with
him in the neatest cap, the nicest dress, and the brightest gold beads
that any old lady wore. Then came the Teezles; then came the Colwells,
followed soon by their young people. Then came the Wilsons; then came
the widow Flaxman, thinking how sad it would be to sing one of her old
nasal songs alone. Then came Mrs. Troffater and Ruth; and they were
able to offer no satisfactory excuse for Tilly, who had refused all
their pleas to come with them, and taken to the woods without his dog
or gun. Many remarked that they never saw Mrs. Troffater appear so
well before. She wore a brand-new calico frock, of a rich de laine
appearance; she had a nice cap, and handsome amber beads; and though
her cap-border was rather too wide, and plaited too thinly for perfect
taste, and the young people smiled to see it rise and fall with the
wind; she appeared well enough; and no one attended the wedding with a
warmer welcome than she. Then came Seneca Waldron and his wife; and
soon all the guests were there.
The fathers and mothers were gathered into the white north-room,
exchanging glad looks and hearty salutations, as if each had been
autumn itself, smiling in great and abundant heart on the scene; and
they were discussing the beauty of the day, and the excellence of the
season; relating each other's history; and recalling incidents of the
olden time, when the country was new, and neighbors were farther apart
and more friendly; while the young people, happy as a flock of birds in
the sunny days of mate-choosing, and freshly blooming as the
landscape--around them, were out on the mown field adjacent to the
house, whirling in the sportive ring, bounding in the merry dance,
chatting in agreeable groups, or chasing one another on flying feet to
exact or administer some little forfeit, or whisper some mirthful word
or tale.
Father Lovelight, the travelling Minister, had long been expected on
another visit to Summerfield, and he came three or four days in advance
of the appointment, to attend the wedding and perform the ceremony.
The time drew near for the company to be called in, and the ceremony to
commence, and Mr. and Mrs. Fabens talked to each other of the joy that
sat as a guest in their home.
"We feel well for our daughter," said Fabens, "we believe that life to
her must be a blessing, and we are glad to meet our friends when we
find it in our power, as in our pleasure, to make them so happy."
"Certainly, this is a happy occasion as I ever attended in my life,"
said Father Lovelight; "and I wish my good wife could be here. I know
her whole heart would enjoy it. I have attended weddings, where the
parties were unequally matched, or unprepared for a union so sacred,
and they have given me funeral thoughts. May this joy be prophetic of
the future bliss of the young couple. May my offices this afternoon be
always a subject of pleasant thoughts."
"There's nothing at all unpleasant in a time like this," said Uncle
Walter; "and I tell you what, Fabens, we have had a good many merry
times in these parts."
"That we have," answered Fabens, "and I do not recollect any party we
have had among us, that did not more than pay the trouble and expense,
in the proceeds of joy and love it added to our treasury."
"Uncle Moses and I determined before any of you came, that there
shouldn't be any hermits in the settlement; but if we could have our
say, all should be neighbors, and have our joys and griefs together,
without respect to high or low. We have kept our word pretty well;
and, if we have not, like the chipmonks, laid up quite so many nuts in
our nests, we have had acorns of pleasure in thousands, laid up all the
more comfort, and held our ages better."
"Ay, ay," answered Fabens; "these neighborly loves, these social
regards and reunions, have been the life and wealth of our place; and I
for one have been more blest than Hezekiah, as I am sure that more than
fifteen years have been added to my life."
"Our lives are greener and wider, as well as longer for these things,"
said Uncle Walter. "Men are like corn, growing all to stalk, and
looking sallow, and scrawny, when standing alone; but branching out in
broad leaves, abundant silks and lusty ears, when they grow and wave
together."
"Even the young man who came here last night a stranger, Mr. Sumner, I
believe he called his name,"--interrupted Mrs. Fabens, glancing out on
the green where the young people lingered in merriment:--"even he seems
to enjoy it with the rest. I am glad we invited him to stay and
refresh himself, and share our happiness all he can. And I see he is
already acquainted with several, and often smiles. But he frequently
looks serious and absent, as though his mind was away. He may be
reminded of his home, and of some good time like this with hearts near
and dear."
"A stranger?" asked Mrs. Nimblet, "a stranger! and how could you
persuade him to stay where all were strangers to him?"
"We urged him considerably," said Fabens, "and thinking it would rest
and refresh him for finishing his journey, he concluded to tarry and
enjoy what he could. See, there he stands talking with Jeanie Waldron,
near the bee-house on the left,--the girl dressed in white with a
flower in her hair."
"Near the girl with a flower? O I see him, I see him," cried Mrs.
Nimblet. "And I," cried another, "and I" another.
"Well, he's a real nice-looking fellow, I vow he is, if that's he with
Jeanie," said Mrs. Wilson.
"I tell you what, he looks like a manly major," added Uncle Walter.
"I call him handsome," said Mrs. Fabens, "and I know he must be a good
and noble-gifted being; he looks it all from his lovely eyes. And if
he is made happy among strangers, surely we have done something for a
wayfarer, and ought to take pleasure from the deed."
"A deed like that will answer very well in lieu of what the Squire was
going to do for a young man in 'Fabens Academy,' and for a poor
homeless heart in 'Fabens Asylum,' when he got rich in the firm of
'Fairbanks, Frisbie and Fabens!'" said Uncle Walter with a roguish leer.
"None of your nonsense now, Uncle Walter!" answered Fabens with a
blushing smile.
"I never had a stranger so win upon my heart before," said Mrs. Fabens.
"He seems a stranger, and not a stranger, in the same look. I could
kiss him and call him my son, I could, I feel so towards him!--O there
is one wish that keeps rising in my heart. I have tried to repress it,
for it cannot be right to harbor it so long; but it will rush before
me, and I sigh for one more blessing. If Clinton could be here, our
dear lost Clinton! Last night I dreamed he came back and made us all
so happy; and as he sat down to a feast we made for him, a company of
joys like little smiling cherubs waited on the table, and gave him the
best of every dainty and treat. And telling the dream to Fanny this
morning, the tears filled her eyes, and she said, 'If we could have him
here, it would be all the heaven we could ask below. What would I not
give,' said she, 'to have my brother at my wedding!'--It was such a
joyful dream, and it was so hard to wake up and find it was nothing but
a dream, and Clinton was not here!"
"I cannot think of the poor boy for a moment," said Fabens, "without
grief for his loss and regret for the affliction. But we cannot have
everything as we like it now. We must be resigned, and wait for heaven
to bring the perfect bliss. God afflicts in mercy; I am sure we shall
meet him in heaven, and that will be greater than any blessing earth
can give. You would have worshipped an Indian, Julia, if he had
brought Clinton alive to your arms, on the day of the great search,
would you not?"
"I should have been tempted to worship him. Words could not have told
my gratitude and love," said Mrs. Fabens.
"Then, think what sufficing joy we should take to our souls," said
Fabens, "and what thanks of worship we should give our God and
Redeemer, for the assurance that he will be brought to our bosom in all
the youthful bloom of heaven, never more to wander from us, never more
to suffer, never more to sorrow, never more to die!"
"But for that blessed hope," said Mrs. Fabens, with a flush of lofty
feeling lighting all her features--"but for that blessed hope, I should
be a maniac, I know I should, at this moment."
"What could have become of the pretty precious boy?" asked Fabens, as a
tear rolled over each cheek. "Can he be alive? I often think of the
little fawn, and mother's dying words. O, the terrible mystery! Will
it never be solved on earth?--The Lord's will be done!"
"I remember just how he looked the last time I saw him," said Uncle
Walter, wiping his eyes. "I fingered his crinkling curls, and
said--'What does Uncle Walter want of Clintie?' 'A kiss,' cried the
little beauty, and threw his soft arms around my old neck, opened hit
lips, like sweet-pea blossoms, and planted a rousing smack on my chin.
Then, I caught him in my arms, kissed his velvet cheeks, chanked his
fat neck, chuckled under his chin, and called him a bobolink; and he
made all ring again with his merry bobolink laugh. That was the last
time I saw him."
"He was a dear boy," sighed Fabens.
"Too dear, too dear to die as he did. O, Lord, continue thy comfort!"
sobbed Mrs. Fabens.
The conversation was then interrupted, for it was announced that the
couple were ready to appear for the ceremony as soon as the guests
could be called into the north room. The guests gathered in, and took
their seats, more than filling the room. Then entered the bridegroom,
leading as bright a blooming beauty of a bride, as your dainty eyes
would choose to see; and they seated themselves where nearly all the
company had the blessing of a view of their joyful looks. Uncle Walter
declared, that the sight was feast enough for him, and he should have
no appetite after that for supper. Colwell thought it was lighter and
more summer-like in the room than before.
Then, when every breath and pulse were so hushed, that nothing but
silence itself filled all ears,--Father Lovelight begged leave to
perform a ceremony before the marriage one. It would not be a great
interruption, and he hoped it might heighten, and not dampen their
joys. And leading in the stranger, he said, "Mr. and Mrs. Fabens, the
gentleman I hold by the hand, revealed to me a mystery last night,
which I am not unhappy now to disclose. Your prayers are answered.
Your joy is complete. Receive your lost son. Clinton returns in joy
to your arms!"
"Has heaven been opened so soon?" cried Fabens, standing like a statue.
"It cannot be Clinton, but, only my dream of him!" cried Mrs. Fabens,
clasping her hands, and looking amazed.
"Believe me, madam, it is your own dear son," said Father Lovelight.
"Father!" cried the stranger.
"Clinton!" cried Fabens, rushing to embrace him.
"My child! my dear, dear child!" cried Mrs. Fabens, falling in his arms.
"O, father!--mother!--sister!" cried the stranger, as the loving three
contended to clasp him closest to each heart.
"Is it my brother, or my mother's dream I hold!--It must, it must be
he! O, we will be happy now!" cried Fanny, embracing all of that
precious form she could extort from her father and mother.
"I will have at least one hand--my brother's hand!" cried George
Ludlow, grasping his left hand and pressing it warmly.
"It is he!--it is Clinton! I know this face--these eyes! I do not
dream! It is not heaven has opened. Clinton's alive, and mother's
word fulfilled!" cried Fabens, pressing the stranger closer to his
heart.
"Merciful heavens! what can this mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Nimblet.
"It is amazing strange!" replied Mr. Nimblet.
"I'll have one grab at him, any way," cried Uncle Walter, making for
the hand, so warmly clasped by George Ludlow.
"So'll I! So'll I, and take pay and interest for my four days' hunt,"
cried Wilson.
"I loved to kiss him, too; and where is my part?" cried Aunt Huldah,
joining in the group.
"And mine!" "and mine!" cried Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Colwell.
"Gracious alive! what's comin' to pass?--Good! good! good! if it's
Clintie--but, O, I fear now, that Tillson's in fault--I fear!"
exclaimed Mrs. Troffater, seeming to be shocked with some new suspicion
of her husband.
"Bring water! bring water! Mrs. Fabens is faint!" cried Mrs. Teezle,
and Mrs. Troffater brought water, and her mind and strength were
restored, while she exclaimed, "too good! too good, I fear! too good to
be true!" and "just right! just right in the nick o' time!" replied
Uncle Walter.
Others attempted to edge in their hand and word of joy, who were
crowded back by those before them. It was no dream. It was their own
worshipped Clinton in their arms. And it remains only for the present
to relate, that the marriage ceremony, though delayed longer than any
one was aware, till Father Lovelight at last gave the hour, was still
performed, and rare and high was the joy that made Uncle Walter forget
his story, and Mrs. Flaxman her song; and was carried on by that
glorious company full to the very midnight.
Tilly Troffater had bitterly repented the crime of the boy's abduction,
to which he was accessary, and he received not a moment's respite from
the tortures of hell, that tore his anguished heart, till he heard
where Clinton remained; went, and informed him of his parents, and
home, and directed his steps to that door. But the young man's story
is reserved for another volume, on another labor of life.