Time passed on; I had almost reached my fifteenth birthday, and began
to consider myself no longer a child. I was very tall for my age, and
quite showy-looking; and gentlemen who visited at the house now treated
me with all the attention due a young lady; which flattered my vanity
very much, and made me think them very agreeable. I remember my father's
once sending me from the room, on account of some gentleman's nonsense
which he considered me too young to listen to; but I felt very much hurt
at such treatment, and almost regarded myself as some heroine of romance
imprisoned by cruel parents. Novels were a great injury to me, as indeed
they are to every one. Their style was much more extravagant and
unnatural than at the present day; and even at this early age, I had
read the "Children of the Abbey," the "Mysteries of Udolpho," the
"Scottish Chiefs," "Thaddeus of Warsaw," and many others of the same
stamp.
But how did I obtain these, you ask? My mother, with her sense and
discernment, would not have placed such books in my hands; and you are
right. My grandmother was an inveterate novel-reader, but very careful
that her books fell into no other hands; so that the only means of
satisfying my taste for romantic reading was by stealth. Although novels
were proscribed, no other books were placed in my hands; there were then
scarcely any children's books published, and consumed as I was by an
inordinate passion for reading, was determined to indulge it without
being very particular about the means. How often have I watched my
opportunity when my grandmother had left her apartment for an afternoon
visit or drive, and then drawn forth the cherished volume from beneath
the pillow and even from between the bed and sacking bottom! so
carefully were they concealed from view. Sometimes, indeed, she locked
the door of her room, and took the key with her; and then all ingress
was impossible.
What wild, foolish dreams I indulged in!--What romantic-visions of the
future that were never realized! How well I remember my sensations on
reading the "Scottish Chiefs." Wallace appeared to me almost in the
light of a god--so noble, so touching were all his acts and words, that
I even envied Helen Mar the privilege of calling herself his wife, and
then dying to lay her head in the same grave with him. I resolved to
give up all the common-place of life, and cling unto the spiritual--to
purify myself from every earth-born wish and habit, and live but in the
hope of meeting with a second Wallace. I persevered in this resolution
for a whole week; and then meeting with some equally delightful hero of
an opposite nature, I changed from grave to gay. My mood during these
periods of fascination was as variable as the different heroines I
admired. Now I would imitate the pensiveness of Amanda, and go about
with streaming tresses, and a softly modulated tone of voice--then I
would read of some sprightly heroine who changed all by her vivacity
and piquant sayings, and immediately commence springing down three
stairs at a time, teazing all the children, and making some reply to
everything that was said, which sometimes passed for wit but oftener for
impudence--and then again some noble, self-sacrificing character would
excite my admiration, and oh! how I longed for some opportunity to
signalize myself! A bullet aimed at some loved one, whom I could protect
by rushing forward and receiving it myself; but I was not to be killed,
only sufficiently wounded to make me appear interesting--disabled in the
arm, perhaps, without much suffering, for bodily pain never formed a
prominent feature in my ideas of the romantic and striking--I was too
great a coward; or else a plunge into the waves to rescue some drowning
person from perishing, when I wished just to come near enough to death
to elevate me into a heroine for after life.
I looked in the glass, and seeing large, dark eyes, a healthful bloom,
and rather pretty features, I concluded that I need not belong to the
plain and amiable order, and began to wish most enthusiastically for
some romantic admirer; some one who would expose himself to the danger
of a sore throat and influenza for the sake of serenading me--who would
be rather glad than otherwise to risk his life by jumping down a
precipice to bring me some descried wild flower, and who, when away from
me, would pass his time in writing extravagant poetry, of which I was to
be the bright divinity. Old as I am, I feel almost ashamed to repeat
this nonsense now; and had I then possessed more sense myself, or made
by mother the confidant of these flights of fancy, I need not now relate
my own silly experience to warn you from the effects of novel-reading.
Charles Tracy did not at all realize my romantic ideas of a hero; and
one bright day the dissatisfaction which had been gradually gathering in
my mind expressed itself in words. I had gone down to a lake at the
bottom of the garden to indulge in high-flown meditations; and Charles
Tracy stood beside one of the boats which were always kept there.
"Come, Amy," said he, as I drew near, "it is a beautiful day--let us
have a row across the lake."
"No," said I, twining my arm around one of the young trees near, "I
prefer remaining here."
"You had better come with me," rejoined Charles, "instead of keeping
company there with the snapping-turtles. Well," he added after a short
pause, "if you will not come with me, why I must go alone."
"Go, then!" said I, bitterly, "you love your own pleasure a great deal
better than you do me!"
"Why Amy!" he exclaimed, coming close to me as though doubtful of my
sanity, "how very strangely you talk! You know that I love you very
much," he continued, "for haven't we been together and quarrelled with
each other ever since I can remember? And do I not now bear the marks of
the time when you threw the cat in my face to end our childish dispute?
And the scar where you stuck the pen-knife in my arm? And don't you
remember how you used to pull my hair out by handfuls? How can I help
loving you when I call to mind all these tender recollections?"
This reply provoked me very much; and I answered energetically: "You do
_not_ love me!--you do not know how to love I When did you ever make any
sacrifices for me?" I continued in an excited manner, "When did I ever
hear you singing beneath my window in a tone meant for no ear but mine?
When did you ever rush with me out of a burning house, or encounter any
danger for my sake? When did you ever watch for a glimpse of my taper at
midnight when all others were asleep?"
During the progress of this singular speech, Charles Tracy's countenance
had gradually changed from the surprised to the amused; and when I had
concluded he laughed--yes, he actually laughed! What a damper of
sentiment!
"Laugh on," said I, in a dignified manner, as I turned my steps
homeward, "that has now put an end to all."
He was but a boy--I, a _woman_, for should I not be fifteen to-morrow?
and I walked away from him in contempt; while he quietly jumped into the
boat and rowed across the lake, whistling a tune. But I had not
proceeded far before a loud "ha! ha!" from my brother Fred sounded close
at my side; he had been an unobserved listener to the whole
conversation, now enjoyed the pleasure of teasing me all the way home.
"That's right, Amy!" said he, "Keep up your dignity, child. What a rich
scene! _'When did you ever watch for a glimpse of my taper at midnight
when all others were asleep?'_ Rather a hopeless watch, I'm thinking, as
you sleep in the middle room between mother's and the nursery; and
between you and I, Amy, you know that you don't burn a taper, but a
brass lamp; but that, of course, isn't quite so poetical to tell of.
Such an air, too!--what a rare tragic actress you'd make! Do say it
over, won't you? I have almost forgotten the beginning."
I gave Fred a boxed ear, which must have stung for sometime afterwards;
and running hastily into the house, locked myself up in my own room till
tea-time. The next day was my birthday; and while my table was strewn
with acceptable gifts from all the others, I perceived among them a
very antiquated-looking cap and pair of spectacles, to the latter of
which was attached a slip of paper, on which was written: "To improve
the impaired sight of my dear sister Amy, produced by her declining
years; also a cap to conceal the gray hairs of age, and 'Young's Night
Thoughts' for the edification of her mind."
I was almost ready to cry from mortification; but I remembered that I
was now fifteen, and took the articles down stairs for the purpose of
exposing Master Fred, but what did I get for my pains? In justification
he told the story of yesterday, in his own peculiarly humorous way; and
when I saw myself thus reflected, the ridiculous tendency of my words
and manner struck me forcibly, and I was almost ready to laugh. But the
others did that abundantly for me, while wondering where I had picked up
such notions; and Grandmother Chesbury, I verily believe, suspected that
I had been at her novels, for after that I never could find one.
But although I was thus debarred from receiving any new impressions, the
old ones still continued in full force; and at last came the long
desired opportunity to signalize myself. I was then almost sixteen, and
the treaty of peace with England had just been celebrated. I remember
well the illuminations and festivities on the first night of the
proclamation, which we spent in the city at a friend's house; the
balconies were wreathed with flowers, lights blazed from every window,
crowds of beautifully-dressed women filled the rooms, and the sounds of
music and dancing were heard in every street. It was my first evening in
company--my first experience of admiration; and completely carried away
by the music, the lights, and the occasion, the old desire for some
signalizing deed came thronging back in full force, till I grew almost
bewildered. No opportunity offered that night; I could only join in the
festivities, and listen to the feats and praises of others; but towards
the latter part of the evening my eye was attracted by the brilliant
uniform and handsome appearance of a young officer who passed through
the rooms, and lingered a moment in a distant corner among a knot of
friends who crowded eagerly about him. His commanding figure, beautiful
features, and intellectual, yet sweet, expression, completely realized
all my ideas of a novel-hero; I saw my father speaking to him, and
immediately made signs to introduce him, but before I could catch his
eye, the officer had disappeared. Papa told me that Major Arlington's
father had been an old friend of his, and he would have introduced him
to me, but business called him in another direction, and he could not
stay a moment longer, but promised us a visit at an early day.
You need not smile, Miss Ella, and look so knowing at the mention of the
name; how do you know that there were not two Arlingtons in the world?
How do you know but that it was his brother I married? How do you
know--but never mind, I will go on with my story. It was several days
after that eventful evening, which still left a vivid impression upon my
mind; the desire to perform some wonderful deed remained in full force,
mingled with visions of the young officer, and I wandered about, without
paying much attention to my ordinary duties. Papa and mamma were both
from home, and Grandmother Chesbury had locked herself up with a new
novel; while I was roaming about the grounds not far from the front
entrance.
A sound of wheels suddenly struck upon my ear; I supposed it was some
visitor and paid not much attention to it; but before long there was a
confused noise of voices--a sound of plunging and rearing--and a
distinct crashing of some heavy vehicle. My evil genius led me to the
spot; I beheld a handsome carriage, which the horses seemed striving to
dash in pieces--caught a glimpse of a glittering uniform inside--and
following a wild impulse, sprang forward and endeavored to seize the
bridle. I heard some one say, "Take care of the young lady!" and then
the officer jumped from the carriage, while I was thrown down close to
the horses' feet. A confused hum sounded in my ears--and then followed a
long blank.
* * * * *
When I awoke to consciousness I found myself lying on a sofa in a small
sitting-room; but no one was bending tenderly over me--not even a
mother's face met my eyes--but the gossip of two women servants grated
painfully on my ear.
"What under the sun possessed Miss Amy to go and cut up such a caper as
that!" said one of them, "All the mischief she's done this day won't be
done away with for weeks to come."
"No, indeed!" rejoined the other, "that young officer is a fixture here
for six weeks at least. Rome wasn't built in a day, nor are broken legs
healed in ten minutes--and such a beauty as he is, too! It's shameful to
think of!"
"If she'd only let him alone, he'd done well enough--but she must go and
jump right under the horses' feet, so that, of course, he had to spring
out to prevent her being killed, and that broke his leg, while she
wasn't hurt a bit. Speaking of beauties, if Miss Amy could only have
seen herself then!--spotted with mud from head to foot, and her hair
flying in all directions!"
On hearing that I was not hurt, I sprang from the sofa and rushed to the
glass, where I encountered the reflection of a most pitiable-looking
figure. Even my face was daubed with mud and dirt, and I looked like a
veritable fright. Shame, mortification, and sorrow for my heedless
conduct almost overwhelmed me. In the selfish desire to signalize
myself, I had hazarded the life of a fellow-being, and brought upon him
weeks of suffering which no act of mine could now alleviate. The tears
rolled down my cheeks; but having ascertained that my parents had not
yet returned, I cut short the gossip of the servants, and ordering them
to bring me some water, I arranged my disordered dress for a visit to
the sufferer's apartment.
Doctor Irwin had been instantly sent for; and when I entered the room,
he was seated by his patient's bedside, while Major Arlington lay with
closed eyes and pallid features in a kind of sleep or stupor.
"Miss Amy," whispered the doctor, "this is a sad business--and your
parents from home, too. What will be their feelings on their return?"
I glanced at the motionless figure of the young officer, and too much
ashamed to reply, hung my head in silence.
"Are you sure that you were not at all hurt, my dear child?" he
continued in a kind tone; "What a very wild proceeding it was to throw
yourself into the melée! If two men could not manage the horses, could
you suppose that your strength would be sufficient. You should have
reasoned with yourself before taking such a step, for you see the
unfortunate effects of it."
_Reason!_ there was not the least particle of reason in my whole
composition; this was a wild, impulsive act, performed without the least
thought for the probable consequences, and I now stood gazing on the
wreck I had made, in silent bewilderment. My parents soon returned; and
hurrying to the apartment with countenances of astonishment and fear,
there realized a confirmation of the dreadful accounts they had been
assailed with. "And who was the author of all this mischief? _Amy_." My
eyes drooped under the stern, reproving glances I encountered, and I
crept about the house like a guilty thing--fervently wishing for the
bodily suffering I had brought upon the victim of my wild attempt,
instead of the pain of mind with which I was tormented.
Days passed on, but the lapse of time was unheeded by me; my post was by
the bedside of the sufferer--my employment to anticipate his slightest
wish, and yield to every humor. As he grew better I read to him, sung to
him, talked to him; and in return received the grateful glances of those
expressive eyes, which followed me about whenever I moved from his side.
At length he could sit up in his apartment, and then walk slowly through
the grounds, with the assistance of a heavy cane on one side and my arm
on the other; till at last he was pronounced to be as well as other
people; or, as Dr. Irwin expressed it, "as good as new." Your eyes are
brightening up, Ella, in anticipation of a most sentimental love-tale;
but I shall not gratify your desire of laughing at your grandmother's
folly; but shall only say, that before he left, I had promised, with the
consent of my parents, to become Mrs. Arlington. I was married at
eighteen, and, strange to say, to one who appeared a realization of all
my girlish fancies; he was noble-minded, warm-hearted, and almost as
enthusiastic as myself--with a sweetness of temper which I have never
seen raffled, except by some act of injustice or cruelty.
But do not flatter yourself, Ella, that life glided on with me like the
pages of a romance; I was obliged to lay aside a great many silly
theories which I had indulged in, and come to plain reality much oftener
than suited my inclination. A _perfect_ person is not to be found upon
earth; when disposed to murmur at not meeting with the sacrifices you
expect, ask yourself if you would be willing to make these sacrifices
for another--and then be not surprised that others are not more free
from the dross of self-consideration than you are. Also, do not suppose
that it was my hair-brained performance at our first meeting which
attracted my husband's affections; no, often has the color mounted to my
face at his reference to that scene, and his own impressions then.
"You reminded me, Amy," he would say, laughing, "of some reckless sprite
from the kingdom of misrule, who had flown into the scene, determined to
make all the trouble she could. It was very chivalrous of you, to be
sure, and I ought to be very grateful--but I must own that I felt
exceedingly provoked at being obliged to risk my life by springing out
to rescue you from the horses' hoofs. But never mind, _chere amie_" he
would add as he saw the hot tears starting to my eyes, while face, neck,
and brow, were suffused with the hue of mortification, "there was an
after-page in the sick-room, when I beheld, with surprise, my crazy
heroine transformed into the demure, and gentle nurse, and learned to
distinguish a soft-toned voice, which always lingered in my ears like
pleasant music; so that after all, I am really indebted to you, Amy, for
making me break my leg--for, if you had not done so, I am afraid I never
should have discovered my jewel of a wife."
So much for my romance; but the scene generally ended with the kiss of
reconciliation, and I, too, learned to smile at my act of girlish folly.
"My tale is told; my parents have long slept beside each other, where the
long grass waves over them--my elder brothers are still living--my
brother Henry is a beloved and venerated clergyman in one of our large
cities--while the wild, hair-brained Fred became a talented lawyer in
the same place where he is universally respected. The rest of my
brothers are all dead; and we three only survive out of a family of
nine. Perhaps at some future time I may give you an account of my
residence in England; but I must now conclude my adventures for the
present."
Here ended my grandmother's history, which had afforded us many evenings
of amusement. We were both surprised and pleased at her frankness in
speaking of her faults and mischievous acts; and could indeed hardly
comprehend that the very sensible, dignified lady before us had ever
been such an odd, harum-scarum sort of character--yet so it was, and she
had kindly related her own experience for our improvement. The last
chapter was intended more especially for my own particular edification;
but we all laughed heartily at my grandmother's ideas of signalizing
herself. That room is to us a charmed spot; and we look forward most
anxiously to the time when she is to begin an account of her life in
England.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's A Grandmother's Recollections, by Ella Rodman