The time had come to leave home, and the Westons had but one more evening.
Neither Mr. Weston nor Alice were well, and all hoped the change would
benefit them. They were to travel in their own carriage, and the
preparations were completed. The three ladies' maids were to go by the
stage. Miss Janet had a number of things stowed away in the carriage, which
she thought might be useful, not forgetting materials for a lunch, and a
little of her own home-made lavender, in case of a headache. The pleasure
of going was very much lessened by the necessity of leaving the dear old
lady, who would not listen to their entreaties to accompany them. "You,
with your smooth cheeks and bright eyes, may well think of passing a winter
in Washington; but what should I do there? Why, the people would say I had
lost my senses. No, we three ladies will have a nice quiet time at Exeter,
and I can go on with my quilting and patchwork. You see, Miss Alice, that
you come back with red cheeks. The birds and the flowers will be glad to
see you again when the spring comes."
"Ring the bell, Alice," said Mr. Weston. "I must know how Mr. Mason's
little boy is. I sent Mark shortly after dinner; but here he is. Well,
Mark, I hope the little fellow is getting well?"
"He is _receased_, sir," said Mark, solemnly.
"He is what?" said Mr. Weston. "Oh! ah! he is dead--I understand you. Well,
I am truly sorry for it. When did he die?"
"Early this morning, sir," said Mark. "Have you any more orders to give,
sir? for as I am to be up mighty early in the morning, I was thinking of
going to bed when you are done with me."
"Nothing more," said Mr. Weston; and Mark retired.
"Mark," continued Mr. Weston, "has the greatest propensity for using hard
words. His _receased_ means deceased. He was excessively angry with Bacchus
the other day for interfering with him about the horses. 'Nobody,' said he,
'can stand that old fellow's airs. He's got so full of tomposity, that he
makes himself disagreeable to everybody.' By _tom_posity, I suppose you all
know he meant pomposity. Bacchus is elated at the idea of going with us. I
hope I shall not have any trouble with him."
"Oh! no, uncle," said Alice; "he is a good old fellow, and looks so
aristocratic with his gray hair and elegant bows. Ellen and I will have to
take him as a beau when you are out. Aunt Phillis says, that he has
promised her not to drink a drop of any thing but water, and she seems to
think that he has been so sober lately that he will keep his word."
"It is very doubtful," said Mr. Weston; "but the fact is he would be
troublesome with his airs and his _tomposity_ were I to leave him; so I
have no choice."
"Dear Alice," said Ellen, fixing her large dark eyes on her; "how can I
ever be grateful enough to you?"
"For what?" asked Alice.
"For getting sick, and requiring change of air, which is the first cause of
my being here on my way to the great metropolis. Whoever likes a plantation
life is welcome to it; but I am heartily sick of it. Indeed, Miss Janet,
good as you are, you could not stand it at uncle's. Ten miles from a
neighbor--just consider it! Uncle disapproves of campmeetings and
barbecues; and aunt is sewing from morning till night; while I am required
to read the Spectator aloud. I have a mortal grudge against Addison."
"But, my dear," said Miss Janet, "you must remember you are to return to
your uncle's, and you must not learn to love the great world too much."
"Perhaps," said Mr. Barbour, who was much depressed at the approaching
parting, "Miss Ellen may not mean to return to her uncle's. A young lady
with good looks, and a heavy purse, will be found out in Washington. She
will just suit a great many there--clerks with small salaries, army and
navy men with expensive habits; and foreign attachés, who, being nothing in
their own country, turn our young ladies' heads when they come here."
"So you think I am destined for no other fate than to pay a
fortune-hunter's debts. Thank you, Mr. Barbour!"
"The fact is, Mr. Barbour wants you himself, Ellen, and he is afraid
somebody will carry you off. He will pay us a visit this winter, I expect,"
said Mrs. Weston.
"Well," said Ellen laughingly, "I'd rather take up with him than to go back
to my old life, now that I see you are all so happy here."
"But your aunt and uncle," said Miss Janet, "you must not feel unkindly
toward them."
"No, indeed," said Ellen, "they are both good and kind in their way, but
uncle is reserved, and often low-spirited. Aunt is always talking of the
necessity of self-control, and the discipline of life. She is an
accomplished teaze. Why, do you know," continued Ellen, laughingly, as she
removed Miss Janet's hand from her mouth, the old lady thus playfully
endeavoring to check her, "after I had accepted Mrs. Weston's kind
invitation, and mammy and I were busy packing, aunt said I must not be too
sanguine, disappointments were good for young people, and that something
might occur which would prevent my going. I believe I should have died
outright, if it had turned out so."
"And so," said Mr. Barbour, "to get rid of a dull home, you are determined
to fly in the face of fate, and are going to Washington after a husband.
Ah! Miss Ellen, beware of these young men that have nothing but their
whiskers and their epaulettes. Let me tell you of a young friend of mine,
who would marry the man of her choice, in spite of the interference of her
friends, and one April morning in the honey moon they were seen
breakfasting under a persimmon tree. However, as you are a young lady of
fortune, you will always be sure of coffee and hot rolls; your good father
has made such a sensible will, that the principal never can be touched. How
many fine fortunes would have been saved, if Southerners had taken such
precautions long ago. You will have a fine time young ladies, you must keep
an account of your conquests, and tell me of them when you come back."
"Its only Ellen who is going in search of love adventures, Mr. Barbour,"
said Alice.
"Make yourself easy, Mr. Barbour," said Ellen. "I mean to have a delightful
time flirting, then come back to marry you, and settle down. Mammy says I
can't help getting good, if I live near Miss Janet."
"Well, I will wait for you," said Mr. Barbour. "And now Alice, sing me a
sweet old Scotch song. Sing, ''Twas within half a mile of Edinburgh town'."
"I can't come quite so near it as that," said Alice, "but I will sing
''Twas within a mile.'" She sang that, and then "Down the burn Davie." Then
Miss Janet proposed 'Auld lang syne,' in which they all joined; in singing
the chorus, Mr. Barbour, as usual, got very much excited, and Alice a
little tired, so that the music ceased and Alice took her seat by her uncle
on the sofa.
"Miss Janet," said Mr. Barbour, "you look better than I have seen you for a
long time."
"Thank you," said Miss Janet. "Mr. Washington asked me the other day if I
were ever going to die. I suppose, like Charles II., I ought to apologize
for being so long in dying; but I am so comfortable and happy with my
friends, that I do not think enough of the journey I soon must take to
another world. How many comforts I have, and how many kind friends! I feel
now that we are about to be separated, that I should thank you all for your
goodness to me, lest in the Providence of God we should not meet again.
Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have, my poor thanks are most
gratefully offered."
"Oh! Cousin Janet," said Alice, with her eyes full of tears, "why will you
not go with us; your talking so makes me dread to part with you."
"My darling, we must all try to get to Heaven, where there are no partings.
I cannot be a great while with you; remember, I am eighty-five years old.
But I will not grieve you. We will, I trust, all meet here in the spring.
God is here, and He is in the great city; we are all safe beneath His care.
Next summer He will bring Arthur home again."
"Partings should be as short as possible," said Mr. Barbour. "So I mean to
shake hands with everybody, and be off. Young ladies, be generous; do not
carry havoc and desolation in your train; take care of your uncle, and come
back again as soon as possible."
He then took a friendly leave of Mr. and Mrs. Weston, and mounted his horse
to return home.
"What a nice old beau Mr. Barbour would make," said Ellen, "with his fine
teeth and clear complexion. I wonder he never married."
"Upon my word!" said Miss Janet, "you will be wondering next, why I never
married. But know, Miss Ellen, that Mr. Barbour once had a romantic
love-affair--he was to have been married to a lovely girl, but death envied
him his bride, and took her off--and he has remained true to her memory. It
was a long time before he recovered his cheerfulness. For two years he was
the inmate of an asylum."
"Poor old gentleman," said Ellen. "I do believe other people besides me
have trouble."
"Ah! when you look around you, even in the world, which you anticipate with
so much pleasure, you will see many a smiling face that tries to hide a
sad and aching heart; a heart that has ached more painfully than yours."
"No," said Ellen, looking up from the ottoman at Miss Janet's feet, where
she was seated; and then bursting into tears. "Oh! thoughtless and
frivolous as I am, I shall never forget _him_. If you knew how I have wept
and suffered, you would not wonder I longed for any change that would make
me forget."
"Dear child," said Miss Janet, laying her hand on that young head, "I did
not mean to reprove you. When God brings sorrow on the young, they must
bear it with resignation to his will. He delights in the happiness of his
creatures, and it is not against his will that the young should enjoy the
innocent pleasures of life. Then go you and Alice into the world, but be
not of the world, and come back to your homes strengthened to love them
more. Cousin Weston has the Bible opened, waiting for us."
* * * * *
In the mean time, Bacchus has received a good deal of wholesome advice from
Phillis, while she was packing his trunk, and in return, he has made her
many promises. He expresses the greatest sorrow at leaving her, declaring
that nothing but the necessity of looking after his master induces him to
do so, but he is secretly anticipating a successful and eventful campaign
in Washington. All the servants are distressed at the prospect of the
family being away for so long a time; even old Wolf, the house-dog, has
repeatedly rubbed his cold nose against Alice's hand, and looked with the
most doleful expression into her beautiful face; but dogs, like their
masters, must submit to what is decreed, and Wolf, after prayers, went off
peaceably with William to be tied up, lest he should attempt, as usual, to
follow the carriage in the morning.