ANNIS.
How near the Capital City came to be handed down in history as Old
Washington its denizens of to-day will never know. There were many
cogent reasons for changing it. It had grown so slowly; it would
require an immense amount of money to rebuild it; the place had never
taken root in the affections of the whole country.
But, then, it was the city of Washington and the old worthies who had
made the country. There was Florida for the southern point, as well
as Maine for the north-eastern; there were the great Mississippi and
Louisiana, as well as the lake countries. Was it not nearly the center?
Men like Arthur Jettson set about retrieving their fortunes and
showing their faith in the place. Mrs. Madison made it as agreeable as
possible to foreign ministers and their wives, and guests from the more
important cities. Colonel and Mrs. Monroe added to the attractions.
The Capitol was repaired slowly, but it was two years before the White
House was undertaken.
The scars were all healed long ago. The broad avenues stretch out with
handsome residences, and the streets that little Annis thought so funny
because they were "like the A B C of the spelling book one way, and
the first lesson in the arithmetic the other way," have filled up the
vacant spaces with rows of houses. Tiber Creek is no more, and Rock
Creek, which rushed and brawled and overflowed its banks in a freshet,
is a dull little meandering stream. Where the Lees and Custises held
sway and entertained in a princely manner there is a grave, decorous
silence and a City of Heroes, who, having done their duty for liberty
and country, sleep well under the green turf. Georgetown has enlarged
her borders, and is beautiful. Mount Vernon, with its two hundred
years of history, is the nation's heritage. Old Washington is almost
forgotten, with here and there a relic and a few old maps one can pore
over in the grand Congressional Library. And now it is indeed the City
of the Nation, with its many treasures, even if they are modern, its
handsome legations, its beautiful circles to commemorate the heroes of
later times. And Dolly Madison lived to see many of the improvements,
and to be the historic link between the old and the new.
As for Annis Mason, she found it undeniably dull when Eustace Stafford
had gone. Even knowledge seemed to lose its charm, and the babies grew
commonplace. But, then, in the spring Miss Polly and her lover were
married and set up a cozy little home of their own, and really wanted
Annis in it.
Then Varina came home--a tall, slim girl, quite vivacious and ever so
much better tempered than in her youth; and really rather patronized
Annis, who was not a year younger, but quite a little girl, not come to
trains nor a great pile of hair on the top of her head, and a cascade
of puffs in front, and a comb so big it had to be carried in a bag when
you went out of an evening.
Then she had a lover, too--a fine young South Carolinian, who had an
immense plantation and no end of slaves, and was going into the new
industry of raising cotton.
There was a very general demur. Varina was so young, if she was tall.
But, then, Southern girls grew up soon, and many of them were wives at
fifteen.
"There must be a year's engagement," her father said. Varina must learn
how to manage a household; and girls had a good deal of instruction in
housewifely arts in those days, even if there was a regiment of slaves
to do everything.
"I'll coax off six months," Varina declared to her lover, and he went
away with that comfort.
She was surprised and amused at Annis' book-learning, and teased her
considerably. Did she mean to be a schoolmistress?
Charles returned in capital health and spirits and full of ambitious
plans. He had not _quite_ decided what he would be, either a chief
justice or a minister abroad. He was not sure now that he wanted to be
President.
"For people do say such dreadful things about you. And you don't seem
to suit anyone. I don't wonder Mr. Madison looks old and thin and
careworn."
"Do you remember," said Varina laughingly, "that I used to oppose
a marriage between you and Annis? I wasn't going to let her have
everything. I used to consider that you belonged to me."
"You had a great way of appropriating everybody."
"What a ridiculous thing I was! And now I have made up my mind that you
are just suited to each other. You can still sit on the window ledge
and pore over the same book."
"Annis is well enough, but I am sure she wouldn't find Latin and Greek
interesting. And by the time I want to marry, Annis will be--well,
quite an old woman."
"If you don't marry until you are forty-nine she will have turned the
half-century. That would be rather old. I shall be a grandmother before
that time."
"All you girls think about is getting married," returned the youth
disdainfully.
"We think to some purpose, too, don't we? I wouldn't be an old maid for
a fortune!"
Annis was not sure she liked the defection on Charles' part. He
assumed a rather lofty air. Louis said he was still a prig, that all
the nonsense had not been knocked out of him. But he was a very nice
boy, for all that--gentlemanly, refined, and extravagantly fond of his
stepmother. There were times when Annis felt inclined to jealousy.
He was going to enter college at Williamsburg.
"It ought to make me proud of my own State, as well as the whole
country," he explained impressively to Annis. "And then I shall go to
Oxford maybe, or some of the old English places that have the years of
antiquity back of them, and stand for all that is highest in knowledge,
that have romance and story and grandeur woven into their very stones.
Cloistered shades! Think how beautiful they must be. And all the riches
of Europe at one's command!"
"If you like that kind of riches," disdainfully. "Wars and bloodshed,
rapine and cruelty, grasping and persecution----" Annis paused, out of
breath from indignation.
"That's like a girl! You can't distinguish between physical and
intellectual progress. All nations have begun on the low round. It
is the capability of ascending in the scale that gives them the real
grandeur."
"I think they have not ascended very much in the scale," returned Annis
rather haughtily, the blackened ruins of the beloved Washington and the
day and night of terror before her eyes.
"You are not capable of judging. It is what nations have done in the
aggregate. A thousand years have witnessed marvels."
"Still, we haven't gone back to 'Solomon in all his glory.' And
Job, you know, had the names of the stars, and understood almost
everything."
She had been reading the book of Job aloud to her stepfather, who was
always interested in the historical parts of the Bible.
"No one has really settled as to who Job was," said the youth with calm
superiority.
"Well, the knowledge is all there," returned Annis. "Some day,
thousands of years hence, someone may express doubts about Columbus and
John Smith and Washington, but the country will be here."
Girls were not made for argument, and if you went on forever they would
have the last word, no matter how inane it might be. Charles thought
Annis much changed for the worse, just like other girls, because she no
longer hung on his words and paid him a loving deference. Her worship
had been something new to the boy, for Varina claimed by force, and
was the superior power herself. The others simply petted him. Annis
understood and appreciated. But he had outgrown the boyish fervor, and
she no longer paid homage to him.
He was too young to know that it was simply lack of admiration, and
vanity crying out with the wound.
Annis had quaffed the sweets of admiration herself. A nature less fine
and wholesome would have been spoiled by the warm and fond approval
of her brothers-in-law, and the preference of others she had met. She
was coming to have the dawning self-appropriation of womanhood, and no
longer offered her choicest gifts, but felt they must be sought with
a certain humility. And there was no humility at all about Charles at
that period. They were both too near parallel lines.
Yet it was a busy, happy, engrossing time. Varina took possession
of Louis, who was developing much of his father's easy-going nature,
but with the ambitions of the new generation and the times; then, his
associations had been cast on different lines. It was whispered, too,
that a friend of Patty's with whom Annis was a great favorite had cast
a glamour over the young lawyer.
Annis solaced herself with the thought that Varina would marry and
go away, but all the others would be left, and her dearly beloved
Washington. Roger said she would do for an archæologist, she was so
fond of exploring ruins. She insisted that Marian and Captain Ralston
should make pilgrimages to the little old hut where he had so nearly
died, and they found many marks of the battle, that if it had been an
ignominious rout, still had in it the better part of valor, when the
enemy were overwhelming. Baltimore was glorying in her splendid defense
of Fort McHenry, and a girl who could not sing "The Star-spangled
Banner" was considered half a Tory.
Though Annis was so young, hardly fifteen, she and Varina had so many
invitations to Washington that Mr. Mason suggested they should engage
board by the month. Varina was making the best of her time, for she had
"coaxed off" six months of the engagement, and her lover was to come
soon after Christmas. In the spring Louis was to set up a home of his
own.
Varina's marriage was in the old home, which was crowded with relatives
and guests. Her mother's wedding gown did duty again, and then it
went to Jaqueline as an heirloom. Mr. Woodford was tall and really
fine-looking, with a good deal of character in his face, and of good
family, ten years older than Varina, which brought him to the prime of
young manhood.
"Really!" exclaimed Patty, "I do not see what remarkable grace or
virtue in Varina captured so substantial and devoted a lover--though
she _has_ improved in temper, and is better-looking; but she will never
have the Verney beauty--hardly the Mason. Well, one can't explain half
the queer happenings in this world."
Besides the cotton, Mr. Woodford had extensive rice fields. Long
ago rice had been brought from Madagascar. In both the Carolinas
many industries had been established. Seventy years before, General
Oglethorpe had carried to England from Georgia eight pounds of silk to
be made into a dress for the queen. It was no wonder England hated to
lose her promising colonies.
Varina's marriage was extremely satisfactory. Patricia's had been
just a little shadowed by Jaqueline's broken engagement, and the
half-superstitious feeling that it brought the best luck to the house
for the eldest girl to be married first. But Miss Jaqueline had her own
true lover after all, and was happy as a queen.
So Varina took her portion and the family blessing, even that of Aunt
Catharine, who was growing stout and felt that she had the burden of
half the world on her shoulders, and William and Mary College thrown
in. She didn't see how anything could go on without her.
Perhaps to feel of use is one of the great incentives to earnest living.
"And you are to come and make me a long visit, Annis," Varina said
cordially. "I shall be sorry for you, left all alone here; and I'll
write and tell you everything. And there's Dolly, too, who has the
gayest of gay times! They are quite certain to nominate Cousin Preston
for representative next year. You see we are getting to be rather
famous people."
It was very lonely when they all went away. And now Annis had her
mother all to herself. No, _not_ all--that could never be again. For
now that there were no children whose future must be considered, and
Charles had planned out his own, Randolph Mason, who had always been
easy-going, dropped into the softened and indolent ways of prosperous
elderly life, and became his wife's shadow.
True, his heart was large enough to take in Annis at every step. But he
had grown stout, and was not such an enthusiastic horseman, though the
yearly races inspired all Virginians to keep some fine horses. He liked
the carriage better, with his wife beside him; and then Annis was alone
on the back seat. Of course he had the best right, Annis recognized
that.
She sewed and did drawn work and made lace, worked embroidery in gold
and silver thread, and helped with her "fitting out."
"But if I should never marry?" she said to her mother.
"Girls do, mostly," was the mother's quiet reply. "And your father
insists you shall have as much as the other girls."
So there was spinning, and weaving in the loom room, and bleaching
to be considered in the spring, as May dew was esteemed a wonderful
whitener of linens and cottons, though they were mostly woven in the
Eastern towns. Now and then came gossipy notes from Varina. Charles
wrote dutiful letters to his mother, and sent love to Annis. But the
Washington households were begging for Annis continually.
"Yes, I would go," said her mother. "It is dull for one girl alone here
on the plantation."
"Mamma--don't _you_ want me?" There was a lustrousness like tears in
her eyes.
"My dear!" Her mother kissed her fondly. "Of course I want you. But
I have so many cares and occupations, and father takes a good deal of
my time, and you have so few amusements. It is the difference, dear,
between young people and old people. I want your young life to be
pleasant."
"I wish we lived in Washington. Why can't papa build on Virginia
Avenue, and have a nice garden, and keep horses, and----" What else was
there for him to do?
"He has become settled in this life. He was born and reared here, and
has his friends and neighbors about him. It would make him unhappy to
go away. The slaves are all fond of him, and it is his pride to be a
good master. No; he couldn't leave everything. It is the young people
who go out and settle in new homes. And that is the way the Lord has
ordered it. 'For this cause'--that is, love--'shall a man leave father
and mother, and cleave unto his wife.' And the wife does the same
thing."
"Mamma," with a faint tint of color, "I do not think I shall ever be
married."
Her mother gave a soft little smile.
"You know Varina was always planning, and Patty used to say 'When I am
married,' but I feel curious, and--alone. Perhaps I shall stay with you
and father always," and she gave a tender little sigh. "Would you want
an old maid?"
"Perhaps I shall need you to take care of me, as grandma did Marian."
"But I don't want you to die." She clasped her arms about her mother's
neck convulsively.
"Dear, that would give us thirty-odd years. And grandmother was not a
very old woman. A great many things may happen in that time. I think
you are a little out of spirits and lonesome. You had better go up
to Jaqueline's to-morrow. Cato and Jim are going up with a load. Cato
can escort you, and they can take a portmanteau in the wagon. Captain
Ralston complains that you have quite deserted him."
"And desert you!" half reproachfully.
"I shall have papa. Yes, little girlie, you must go and have a nice
time. I shall think of all the pleasure you are enjoying. And we may
come up for a few days."
"Oh, mamma--if you will! It would be strange to love anyone better than
one's own mother."
But such things had been heard of in the history of womankind.
Annis went up to her beloved Washington. Three homes opened their
hospitable doors, and Louis took her to see his new house, just above
the ruined pile that was full of storied incident already.
"They are sure to rebuild it," he said. "There is a grant being
considered. We have had to fight against considerable odds, but we
shall keep our own Washington. Forty or fifty years from this I shall
be telling my grandchildren how men flew to arms in her defense,
whether they were soldiers or not. And though the treaty has omitted
some things, we shall take them and keep them. France is our good ally
again. And John Quincy Adams has gone to St. Petersburg to make friends
of the Russians."
"Oh, that's the man Charles talks about, who went abroad with his
father when he was such a little lad, and had such a hard time, and
studied and studied, and went to Holland and everywhere."
"And is a fine diplomat. For a young country we have raised a
magnificent crop of men! I hope to be chief justice myself some day."
"And not President?"
"I'll leave that for Charles. A chief justice is appointed for life,
and stands on his good behavior. Do you think they will be likely to
discharge me, Annis?"
"Oh, I know they won't!" laughingly.
The house was being built only to half of the plan. The rest of the
ground was to remain a garden until Louis had increased in wealth.
But it was very nice, with spacious rooms. Miss Marcia Ellicot was
something of an heiress.
Annis found a difficulty in dividing herself around.
"There ought to be two or three of me," she said.
"And you are not to give me the cold shoulder," declared Mrs. Jettson.
"I do believe I was the first one to take a real fancy to you; and do
you remember how Rene quarreled with you about the babies? Arthur and
Floyd are such big boys now."
A new boy had been added to the household. Babies were warmly welcomed
in those days.
She liked Marian's quiet home. Captain Ralston was very fond of her. He
had discarded his crutches, but still used a cane.
"And what do you think, Annis?" he said, his eyes alight with
amusement. "I've had a letter from someone--just guess!"
"You know so many people," returned Annis with a curious heat in her
cheeks.
"Someone you know, too. Your old enemy. My good nurse and friend."
"Oh, that--young Englishman who came over here to fight us," she
answered with an indifferent air, though she had been certain in her
mind when he first told her to guess.
"Yes; Stafford. He is coming over here to settle. He was converted
at the Battle of Bladensburg, and is a ranting, tearing, out-and-out
American. Why, you never knew a more ardent patriot! He is going to
take the oath of allegiance at once, and find something to do, and do
it bravely, earnestly. That is the kind of citizens we want. I think he
has had something of a time to convince his people, but his father has
given him a small sum of money to start him in life--nothing to what it
would cost his father if he stayed at home, he says. Strange how these
men keep their sons at home, thinking trade disgraceful, when England
would swoop up all the commerce of the earth, forgetting what manner of
men make commerce possible."
Annis was silent, yet there was a little heart-beat of exultation. Why
she could not have told.
"Well--will you bid him welcome and Godspeed?"
"Why, it is nothing to me," with a pretty air of indifference.
She did not see the dainty flush on Marian's cheek, that came in
moments of embarrassment, as if she were still sixteen.
"But, then, you have your country's good at heart?"
"I wish the country well," and she made a pretentious courtesy, drawing
up her brows.
Marian had read all the letter. It was proud and manly, but a pretty
girl had inspired a part of the resolve.
"I shall take him in hand. He is ready for work--if he has a long line
of ancestors with titles."
"Yes." Annis gave a provoking laugh. "You know he does not like
fighting."
There was pleasure enough to make her forget all about him, but now and
then she caught herself wondering.
Jaqueline was quite restored to health and beauty, and was a favorite
with society. Roger was certainly a rising man. The undercurrent of
political feeling was that Mr. Monroe would succeed his chief, who
would be quite as glad to resign his honors and the flood of criticisms
as Mr. Jefferson had been. And though the conduct of the war was
caviled at, it was admitted on all sides that it had raised the country
in the rank of nations.
So Annis flitted back and forth like a dainty bird, that did not forget
the home nest. She did her hair high on her head and had a fringe of
fascinating little curls; she wore French heels to her slippers, and
a train on grand occasions. She was not handsome, as the elder Mason
girls had been, not tall or stately, but sweet and pretty, with just
enough of the coquette to make her arch and winsome.
One night at an assembly, where naval men were out in force, someone
caught her hand in the change of partners. A young officer, a first
lieutenant, she saw by his insignia of rank.
"Oh!" he cried, "you have forgotten me, but I remember you. I saw
you across the room, but I was engaged for this dance. I was coming
immediately after. It was at the naval ball when Ensign Hamilton came
in with the flag. What a night it was! And I was Midshipman Yardley,
going out on my first cruise. There--the next figure is waiting."
He handed her gallantly to her new partner.
She went back to Jaqueline. "Oh, Roger!" she cried, "do you remember
the young midshipman at the naval ball when there was such an
excitement? He is here to-night. I have just been dancing with him.
There he is, coming hither."
The smiling young fellow was glad to see Mr. and Mrs. Carrington.
Annis excused herself from her next partner, she was so eager to hear
him talk. Perhaps he would not have lent dignity to the position of
an admiral, for he was not tall nor imposing, but bright and eager
and full of spirit and ambition. "After all, it has been a glorious
war," he declared. He had been in a number of victories, and quite
distinguished himself, they heard afterward; and one sad defeat,
when he had been taken prisoner with some other men and made a daring
escape, landing on the coast of France, and worked and begged his way
home. Now he was stationed at Annapolis for some time.
Annis had to go and dance in the middle of the story, and then he
begged the honor. Was she staying with her sister? He should be in town
a few days. Could he not call on her?
Jaqueline gave him the invitation.
Captain Ralston was eager to see him, as well. There were so many
things to talk over. Such wonderful victories, some such sad defeats,
many brave men who had given their lives and left imperishable names
behind them. How proud the young fellow was of his country!
And they had to tell the story of Washington with the _verve_ that
people do who have lived through an event.
They looked at the ruins, they rode up the Potomac, they went again to
Bladensburg. Everything was so near, so vivid.
Lieutenant Yardley decided that Annis was the most charming young girl
he had ever met.
"I am a little afraid of most women," he admitted. "You can't always
tell just what to say, and sometimes when they praise you you feel
silly all over. And some women never rouse to patriotism. But _we_
find so much to say to each other. Oh, I wish I were going to stay in
Washington a month! Won't you make some of your relatives bring you
over to Annapolis? You have such a splendid lot. Only, do you know,
I like your own name, Annis Bouvier, better than I do Annis Mason. It
just suits you."
She blushed a little. What a pretty way he had of saying Annis!
But alas! the delight came to an end, and for several days Annis
thought Washington as dull as the plantation.
"I am afraid my poor fellow won't stand any chance," said Ralston,
with a slow shake of the head. "The lieutenant is delightful, certainly
quite dangerous enough to turn any girl's brain."
The "poor fellow" reached Washington one morning, having landed at New
York, and spent half a lifetime on the post-roads, he declared. They
were all a little startled. It seemed as if he must have grown, he was
so tall and manly and fine-looking, and so overjoyed to see them again,
so happy at the thought of being an American citizen.
"It is as I said when I was here before--the people do not understand
each other. When they come to a time that they can work side by side in
anything, you will see something grand accomplished. There is a fine,
free air over here that inspirits one. You can begin without being
hampered by a thousand petty restrictions. And I am going to prove
myself a man."
Dr. Collaston and Patty gave him the warmest welcome, quite as cordial
as that of Ralston. But it was queer that when he went there Annis had
gone to Jaqueline's; and finally Ralston asked her boldly to come to
tea and give Eustace Stafford a word of welcome.
"There isn't anything left for me to say," and the rosy lips pouted
as if offended. "You have all been so--so extravagant--or is it
exuberant?--in your demonstrations, that I shall seem tame. And why
should I be so desperately glad? He would have killed you, Philip, or
anyone else, if he hadn't been wounded at once. I'd like you to go and
thank the soldier who did it."
"You are a briery little body where he is concerned, Annis. Why, peace
would never have been signed if both parties had held out as you do! I
think it fine in him to come out so frankly and own he was on the wrong
side. Even if you have no Indian blood in your veins, you might come
and smoke a figurative pipe of peace--that is, drink a cup of tea and
wish him well."
"You know I don't like tea. I should think they would have wanted to
throw it overboard. Another of England's tyrannies!"
"I thought you had a tender place in your heart for Marian and me."
"Oh, I can come!" she said pettishly. "I am not afraid of your
Englishman."
"I began to think you were," teasingly.
And so she came. But when she greeted Mr. Stafford, who had nothing of
the boy left about him, but who met her eyes steadily until hers fell,
and whose voice had lost the old deprecating, beseeching tone, a sudden
half-terror took possession of her, an indefinable fear that made
her angry and yet disarmed her. Oh, she was sure she liked Lieutenant
Yardley a hundred times better!
Afterward she said she was tired of all the gayeties, and wanted to
go home. The plantation was at its loveliest, and there would be such
rides with papa, and she was sure her mother was longing to see her.
But when bees once get a taste for the sweetest honey flowers, they
haunt the spot. And Annis Bouvier was no longer a little girl. She felt
the strange solemn capabilities within her. Sometimes she clung to her
mother, as if not daring to meet them. The mother knew what it meant,
and gave her the wordless comfort mothers can give, in a kiss or a
clasp of the hand, as one crosses the bridge to womanhood.
Neighboring young men began to haunt the house. The Mason girls had
always been favorites. And then down came the young Englishman, who
resolved not to lose the prize if earnest wooing could avail. They
were both so young. True, he had his fortune to make, but some of the
noblest Virginian families had sprung from penniless young sons who had
come to the new countries and won not only wealth, but fame. Captain
Ralston had found a place for him, and he should live in fair sight of
everybody. If he did not make the sort of man they could approve, he
should never blame them for refusing him their treasure. All he asked
for was time and a fair field.
"He has the making of a man in him," the father conceded to himself,
but aloud he said--a little weakly: "Annis is too young to decide. In
the end it will be as she desires."
"And I can come now and then as a friend?"
"It may make trouble for Annis later on, but I could not refuse," he
said to his wife afterward.
Annis came and sat on his knee in the soft Virginian twilight, dusky
sooner than that farther north. The whip-poor-wills called to each
other, the mocking bird flung out a note now and then as if he said
saucily, "_Did_ you think I was asleep?" and the frogs in the marsh
were far enough off to send a strain of quivering music. She put her
arms about his neck, and her soft warm cheek touched his.
"Were you very cross and stern, papa?" in the most coaxing of tones.
"No, dear. He is a fine fellow."
"But he came to fight against us."
"Yes. It was a great crime."
"He was sent, and he didn't know any better. Some day we shall know a
good deal more about each other."
"Annis, do you love him? Child, don't make a mistake! And don't trifle
with him."
"No, I don't _love_ him. We quarreled dreadfully at first. I can't help
liking and admiring him. He is so strong and earnest. There are a good
many grand men in the world, are there not? And some of them have been
poor and have had hard times. I didn't want him to think it was because
he was poor."
"No, dear," as she waited for some reply.
"And you know I can't help meeting him at Marian's, and Patty likes him
so much, too. It would be very disagreeable to be bad friends?"
"Yes," assented the elder.
"So we are going to be _just_ friends until--well, until I am twenty,
perhaps."
"Yes--if you will wait until then."
Annis kissed him.
But that was not the end of love affairs. Lieutenant Yardley insisted
upon telling his story. He had carried about with him a child's sweet
face, and resolved that if he should survive the deadly strife he would
come home and find her. He thought his claim far the best. Had he not
fought for the country, _her_ country?
She liked him too. It was hard to decide. And then the lieutenant,
being rather fiery, went at his rival in a fierce manner. Dueling was
still in vogue.
Annis was alarmed. She sent for the big Englishman. It was curious, but
she knew she could make him obey her slightest behest, big and strong
as he was.
"You are not to quarrel about me," she began with wonderful dignity.
"I do not think I shall marry either of you, or anybody. But if there
_was_ a dispute, and you did anything reprehensible, I should never,
_never_ see you or speak to you again. Lieutenant Yardley is one of the
country's heroes, and you----" How should she put it?
"I am here on sufferance, until I earn the right. Yes, I understand."
She flushed scarlet.
"You are bound over to keep the peace."
"Here is my hand in token of it. I shall never do anything to make you
sorry or ashamed of me."
"Papa," she said in a plaintive tone a day or two after Stafford's
visit, "should you be very sorry if I--were to--stay single--always?"
"Why, no, dear," and he smiled. "Don't you remember, when Louis and
Charles used to dispute about you, I said we would marry off the
others, and you should stay here with mother and me?"
"I must be very naughty, to have people disputing about me," and she
sighed in a delicious sort of manner. "But I have quite resolved that
I will not marry anybody."
They all went up to Washington to attend the wedding of the eldest son.
There was only one lover present, and Annis was sincerely glad.
There was much going back and forth, as there always is when families
branch out and set up new homes. And presently Charles came home, quite
a tall boy, but still delicate-looking, and so much improved that Annis
insensibly went back to her old regard for him. He was broader-minded,
and took a livelier interest in everything.
He soon found that Annis was a great favorite with all the young
people. She wasn't as handsome as Jaqueline, nor as bright and
overflowing with fun as Patty; indeed, he could not decide what the
charm was. He heard about the two real lovers, and met them both.
Secretly he favored Stafford and felt sorry for the lieutenant.
One day they were lounging in the old nook by the creek. He was telling
over his plans. He was not anxious now to be President, or even a
minister abroad, but he was eager for all the knowledge he could grasp,
for all the discoveries that were looming up on the horizon. Uncle
Conway had advised him to enter an English university after the coming
year.
She was in the low swing, which was a tangle of vines now, and he was
curled up in the grass at her feet, as they talked over the past and
the future. Then there was a long, sweet silence, such as comes nowhere
but in country nooks.
"Annis," he exclaimed regretfully, resignedly, "I do not suppose you
ever could marry me?"
She started in surprise. "Oh, Charles!" she cried in pain, "I thought
that foolishness was at an end."
"Has it been foolishness? Annis, I don't believe you could understand
that boyish passion. I don't understand it myself. You fitted into my
life. You liked my old heroes. You never laughed or teased me about
them. They were my life then. That was the country I always lived in.
And it was very sweet to have you. How jealous I was of Louis! Some of
the great intellectual heroes have had just such a love. Last summer I
was half ashamed of it; I was growing out of childhood. And now I have
gone back to it again."
"Oh, Charles, I am so sorry!" There was anguish in her tone. "You see,
I am older, and you will have four or five years abroad, and grow and
develop as men do----"
"Yes. I couldn't ask so much of you. And maybe, then, we wouldn't suit.
Don't you know how the old slave women put pieces of gowns in their
best quilts and cherish them because this was young missy's, and this
someone else's? And I'd like to be the piece that you'd go back to in
memory, and think how sweet the old times were, even when you have a
husband, proud and strong, and that you loved devotedly. And how you
bade me hope through all that trying time, and gave me your mother when
you loved her so, and kept my little secret, for we never can think it
was Varina's fault."
She bent over. Their arms were about each other's necks, and both were
crying--tender, loving tears.
The ensuing winter in Washington was one long talked about. The
President removed to a place forming part of the notable "Seven
Buildings," which had been fitted up for its greater spaciousness.
It was the last winter of Mrs. Madison's reign, as in March Colonel
Monroe was to be inaugurated. There was a great stir and intellectual
activity, a broadening of political life; and as we look back it seems
as if there were giants in those days. Thither came the hero of the
Battle of New Orleans, General Jackson, with his wife, and many another
worthy; even curious visitors from abroad, who acknowledged the grace
of Mrs. Madison's brilliant hospitality.
Thenceforward it was to be a new Washington, more truly American
perhaps, crystallizing around the points that gave strength and
dignity, and proving false many an evil prophecy.
A few, very few, of the old places are left. But the Capitol is the
nucleus of a great nation, and the White House reared on the old
superstructure holds many memories the country will always cherish.
I suppose I hardly need tell you that after a while Annis broke her
resolve and married the man of her choice, living a long and happy
life in the newer Washington. That when her sons were grown there
was nothing they enjoyed more than visiting the commander at Fortress
Monroe and listening to the stirring events of 1812. He thought there
never could be such battles and victories again. But the girls were
most fond of their delightful bachelor uncle Charles, whose pen was
making a name and fame in the intellectual world.
THE END.