I was going home! When we rode over the brow of the hill within a
mile of Surrey, and I saw the crescent-shaped village, and the tall
chimneys of our house on its outer edge, instead of my heart leaping
for joy, as I had expected, a sudden indifference filled it. I felt
averse to the change from the narrow ways of Barmouth, which, for the
moment, I regretted. When I entered the house, and saw mother in her
old place, her surroundings unaltered, I suffered a disappointment.
I had not had the power of transferring the atmosphere of my year's
misery to Surrey.
The family gathered round me. I heard the wonted sound of the banging
of doors. "The doors at grand'ther's," I mused, "had list nailed
round their edges; but then he _had_ the list, being a tailor."
"I vum," said Temperance, with her hand on her hip, and not offering to
approach me, "your hair is as thick as a mop."
Hepsey, rubbing her fingers against her thumb, remarked that she
hoped learning had not taken away my appetite. "I have made an Indian
bannock for you, and we are going to have broiled sword-fish, besides,
for supper. Is it best to cook more, Mrs. Morgeson, now that Cassandra
has come?"
The boy, by name Charles, came to see the new arrival, but smitten
with diffidence crept under the table, and examined me from his
retreat.
"Don't you wish to see Arthur?" inquired mother; "he is getting his
double teeth."
"Oh yes, and where's Veronica?"
"She's up garret writing geography, and told me nothing in the world
must disturb her, till she had finished an account of the city of
Palmiry," said Temperance.
"Call her when supper is ready," replied mother, who asked me to come
into the bedroom where Arthur was sleeping. He was a handsome child,
large and fair, and as I lifted his white, lax fingers, a torrent of
love swept through me, and I kissed him.
"I am afraid I make an idol of him, Cassy."
"Are you unhappy because you love him so well, mother, and feel that
you must make expiation?"
"Cassandra," she spoke with haste, "did you experience any shadow of a
change during the revival at Barmouth?"
"No more than the baby here did."
"I shall have faith, though, that it will be well with you, because
you have had the blessing of so good a man as your grand'ther."
"But I never heard a word of grand'ther's prayers. Do you remember his
voice?"
A smile crept into her blue eye, as she said: "My hearing him, or not,
would make no difference, since God could hear and answer."
"Grand'ther does not like me; I never pleased him."
She looked astonished, then reflective. It occurred to her that she,
also, had been no favorite of his. She changed the subject. We talked
on what had happened in Surrey, and commenced a discussion on my
wardrobe, when we were summoned to tea. Temperance brought Arthur to
the table half asleep, but he roused when she drummed on his plate
with a spoon. Hepsey was stationed by the bannock, knife in hand, to
serve it. As we began our meal, Veronica came in from the kitchen,
with a plate of toasted crackers. She set the plate down, and gravely
shook hands with me, saying she had concluded to live entirely on
toast, but supposed I would eat all sorts of food, as usual. She had
grown tall; her face was still long and narrow, but prettier, and
her large, dark eyes had a slight cast, which gave her face an
indescribable expression. Distant, indifferent, and speculative as the
eyes were, a ray of fire shot into them occasionally, which made her
gaze powerful and concentrated. I was within a month of sixteen, and
Veronica was in her thirteenth year; but she looked as old as I did.
She carefully prepared her toast with milk and butter, and ate it in
silence. The plenty around me, the ease and independence, gave me a
delightful sense of comfort. The dishes were odd, some of china, some
of delf, and were continually moved out of their places, for we helped
ourselves, although Temperance stayed in the room, ostensibly as a
waiter. She was too much engaged in conversation to fulfill her duties
that way. I looked round the room; nothing had been added to it,
except red damask curtains, which were out of keeping with the
old chintz covers. It was a delightful room, however; the blue sea
glimmered between the curtains, and, turning my eyes toward it, my
heart gave the leap which I had looked for. I grew blithe as I saw it
winking under the rays of the afternoon sun, and, clapping my hands,
said I was glad to get home. We left Veronica at the table, and mother
resumed her conversation with me in a corner of the room. Presently
Temperance came in with Charles, bringing fresh plates. As soon
as they began their supper, Veronica asked Temperance how the fish
tasted.
"Is it salt?"
"Middling."
"How is the bannock?"
"Excellent. I will say it for Hepsey that she hasn't her beat as a
cook; been at it long enough," she added, in expiation of her praise.
"Temperance, is that pound cake, or sponge?"
"Pound."
"Charles can eat it," Verry said with a sigh.
"A mighty small piece he'll have--the glutton. But he has not been
here long; they are all so when they first come."
She then gave him a large slice of the cake.
Veronica, contrary to her wont, huddled herself on the sofa. Arthur
played round the chair of mother, who looked happy and forgetful.
After Temperance had rearranged the table for father's supper we were
quiet. I meditated how I could best amuse myself, where I should go,
and what I should do, when Veronica, whom I had forgotten, interrupted
my thoughts.
"Mother," she said, "eating toast does not make me better-tempered;
I feel evil still. You know," turning to me, "that my temper is worse
than ever; it is like a tiger's."
"Oh, Verry," said mother, "not quite so bad; you are too hard upon
yourself."
"Mother, you said so to Hepsey, when I tore her turban from her head,
it was _so_ ugly. Can you forget you said such a thing?"
"Verry, you drive me wild. Must I say that I was wrong? Say so to my
own child?"
Verry turned her face to the wall and said no more; but she had
started a less pleasant train of thought. It was changed again by
Temperance coming with lights. Though the tall brass lamps glittered
like gold, their circle of light was small; the corners of the room
were obscure. Mr. Park, entering, retreated into one, and mother was
obliged to forego the pleasure of undressing Arthur; so she sent him
off with Temperance and Charles, whose duty it was to rock the cradle
as long as his babyship required.
Soon after father came, and Hepsey brought in his hot supper; while he
was eating it, Grandfather John Morgeson bustled in. As he shook hands
with me, I saw that his hair had whitened; he held a tasseled cane
between his knees, and thumped the floor whenever he asked a question.
Mr. Park buzzed about the last Sunday's discourse, and mother listened
with a vague, respectful attention. Her hand was pressed against her
breast, as if she were repressing an inward voice which claimed her
attention. Leaning her head against her chair, she had quite pushed
out her comb, her hair dropped on her shoulder, and looked like a
brown, coiled serpent. Veronica, who had been silently observing her,
rose from the sofa, picked up the comb, and fastened her hair, without
speaking. As she passed she gave me a dark look.
"Eh, Verry," said father, "are you there? Were you glad to see Cassy
home again?"
"Should I be glad? What can _she_ do?"
Grandfather pursed up his mouth, and turned toward mother, as if he
would like to say: "You understand bringing up children, don't you?"
She comprehended him, and, giving her head a slight toss, told Verry
to go and play on the piano.
"I was going," she answered pettishly, and darting out a moment after
we heard her.
Grandfather went, and presently Mr. Park got up in a lingering way,
said that Verry must learn to play for the Lord, and bade us "Good
night." But he came back again, to ask me if I would join Dr. Snell's
Bible Class. It would meet the next evening; the boys and girls of my
own age went. I promised him to go, wondering whether I should meet an
ancient beau, Joe Bacon. Mother retired; Verry still played.
"Her talent is wonderful," said father, taking the cigar from his
mouth. "By the way, you must take lessons in Milford; I wish you would
learn to sing." I acquiesced, but I had no wish to learn to play. I
could never perform mechanically what I heard now from Verry. When she
ceased, I woke from a dream, chaotic, but not tumultuous, beautiful,
but inharmonious. Though the fire had gone out, the lamps winked
brightly, and father, moving his cigar to the other side of his mouth,
changed his regards from one lamp to the other, and said he thought
I was growing to be an attractive girl. He asked me if I would take
pains to make myself an accomplished one also? I must, of course, be
left to myself in many things; but he hoped that I would confide in
him, if I did not ask his advice. A very strong relation of reserve
generally existed between parent and child, instead of a confidential
one, and the child was apt to discover that reserve on the part of the
parent was not superiority, but cowardice, or indifference. "Let it
not be so with us," was his conclusion. He threw away the stump of
his cigar, and went to fasten the hall-door. I took one of the brass
lamps, proposing to go to bed. As I passed through the upper entry,
Veronica opened her door. She was undressed, and had a little book
in her hand, which she shook at me, saying, "There is the day of the
month put down on which you came home; and now mind," then shut the
door. I pondered over what father had said; he had perceived something
in me which I was not aware of. I resolved to think seriously over it;
in the morning I found I had not thought of it at all.