ANOTHER FLITTING
Mr. Carrick convoyed his guest around Pittsburg the next day, through
the Fort and the historical point of Braddock's defeat, that still
rankled in men's minds. A survey of the three rivers that would always
make it commercially attractive, and the land over opposite. Then they
looked up the parties who were quite impatient for the lease which was
to comprise a tract of the water front. And by that time it was too
late to go over.
"Well, you certainly have a fair prospect. And the iron mines are
enough to make the fortune of a town. But the other is a fine
patrimony for a girl."
"There was no boy then," said Bernard Carrick. "And she was the idol
of great-grandfather. She does not come in possession of it until she
is twenty-five and that is quite a long while yet."
They discussed it during the evening and the next day went over the
river with a surveyor, and Bartram was astonished at its
possibilities. There were many points to be considered for a ten
years' lease, which was the utmost M. de Ronville would consent to.
Meanwhile Aldis Bartram became very much interested in the family
life, which was extremely simple without being coarse or common. Yet
it had changed somewhat since M. de Ronville's visit.
"And enlarged its borders," explained Daffodil. "There are three more
rooms. And now we have all windows of real glass. You see there were
board shutters to fasten tight as soon as cold weather came, and thick
blankets were hung on the inside. And now we have a chimney in the
best room and keep fire in the winter, and another small one in the
kitchen."
"It is this room I know best. It seems as if I must have been here and
seen your great-grandfather sitting here and you on the arm of his
chair. I suppose it was because you talked about it so much."
"Oh, did I?" she interrupted, and her face was scarlet, her
down-dropped eyelids quivered.
"Please do not misunderstand me. M. de Ronville was very fond of your
home descriptions and brought them out by his questions. And you were
such an eager enthusiastic child when you chose, and at others prim
and stiff as a Quaker. Those moods amused me. I think I used to tease
you."
"You did;" resentfully, then forgiving it.
"Well, I beg your pardon now for all my naughty ways;" smiling a
little. "What was I saying? Oh, you know he brought home so many
reminiscences. And he loves to talk them over."
"And bore you with them?"
"No; they gave me a feeling of going through a picture gallery and
examining interiors. When I see one with a delicate white-haired old
man, it suggests Mr. Felix Duvernay. I had a brief journey over to
Paris and found one of these that I brought home to my best friend and
I can not tell you how delighted he was. And because we have talked it
over so much, this room had no surprises for me. I am glad to find it
so little changed."
"We are--what the papers call, primitive people. It seemed queer and
funny to me when I came back. But the ones I love were here."
She paused suddenly and blushed with what seemed to him uncalled for
vividness. She thought how she had been offered to him and he had
declined her. It was like a sharp, sudden sting.
"I'm glad you don't----" Then she stopped short again with drooping
eyes. The brown lashes were like a fringe of finest silk. How
beautiful the lids were!
"Don't what?" It was a curious tone, quite as if he meant to be
answered.
"Why--why--not despise us exactly, but think we are ignorant and
unformed;" and she winked hard as if tears were not far off.
"My child--pardon me, you brought back the little girl that came to
visit us. I do not think anything derogatory. I admire your father and
he is a man that would be appreciated anywhere. And your grandparents.
Your mother is a well-bred lady. I can find queer and _outré_ people
not far from us at home, all towns have them, but I should not class
the Carricks nor the Bradins with them."
"Grandad is queer," she admitted. "He is Scotch-Irish. And Norry is
Irish altogether, but she's the dearest, kindliest, most generous and
helpful body I know. Oh, she made my childhood just one delightful
fairy story with her legends and her fun, and she taught me to dance,
to sing. I should want to strike any one who laughed at her!"
"Do you remember Mistress Betty Wharton?" His tone was quite serious
now. "She was one of the favorites of our town. And she was charmed
with you. If you hadn't been worthy of taking about, do you suppose
she would have presented you among her friends and paid you so much
attention? She considered you a very charming little girl. Oh, don't
think any one could despise you or yours. And if you could understand
how M. de Ronville longs for you, and how much pleasure another visit
from you would give him, I do not think you would be hard to
persuade."
He had laid the matter before her mother, who had said as before that
the choice must be left with her.
He and Felix had become great friends. The boy's insatiable curiosity
was devoted to really knowledgeable subjects, and was never pert or
pretentious.
When he decided, since he was so near, to visit Cincinnati, Felix
said--
"When I get to be a man like you, I mean to travel about and see what
people are doing and bring home new ideas if they are any better than
ours."
"That is the way to do. And the best citizen is he who desires to
improve his own town, not he who believes it better than any other.
Now, do you suppose your father would trust you with me for the
journey? I should like to have you for a companion."
"Would you, really?" and the boy's face flushed with delight. "Oh, I
am almost sure he would. That's awful good of you."
"We'll see, my boy."
"If you won't find him too troublesome. I meant to take him on the
journey some time when urgent business called me thither. You are very
kind," said Bernard Carrick.
"You see you're not going to have it all," Felix said to Daffodil. "I
just wish you had been a boy, we would have such fun. For another boy
isn't quite like some one belonging to you."
The child was in such a fever of delight that he could hardly contain
himself. His mother gave him many cautions about obeying Mr. Bartram
and not making trouble.
"Oh, you will hear a good account of me;" with a resolute nod.
Meanwhile the business went on and papers were ready to sign when the
two enthusiastic travellers returned. Mr. Carrick was to be joint
trustee with Mr. Bartram in Daffodil's affairs.
"It is a pity we cannot take in Felix as well," Mr. Bartram said. "He
will make a very earnest business man, and I look to see him an
inventor of some kind."
Felix had been wonderfully interested in the model of William Ramsey's
boat forty years before of a wheel enclosed in a box to be worked by
one man sitting in the end, treading on treadles with his feet that
set the wheel going and worked two paddles, saving the labor of one or
two men. It was to be brought to perfection later on.
Meanwhile Daffodil and her mother discussed the plan for her visit. It
would last all winter. Could they spare her? Did she want to stay that
long? Yet she felt she would like the change to her life.
There was another happening that disturbed her not a little. This was
Lieutenant Langdale's visit. When he came in the evening the whole
family were around and each one did a share of the entertaining. And
if she took a pleasure walk she always asked some friend to accompany
her. Mrs. Carrick was not averse to a serious ending. Daffodil had
reached a stage of content, was even happy, but the unfortunate
circumstance was rarely touched upon between them. It seemed as if she
had quite resolved to have no real lovers. What if an untoward fate
should send the man back again. The thought haunted the mother, though
there was no possible likelihood of it. And her sympathies went out to
the lieutenant.
If she went away, he would realize that there was no hope of
rekindling love out of an old friendship. It would pain her very much
to deny him.
They spoke of her going one evening, quite to his surprise.
"Oh," he said regretfully, "can you not be content here? I am sure
they all need you, we all do. Mrs. Forbes will be lost without you.
You are quite a star in the Fort society."
"In spite of my poor card-playing," she laughed.
"But you dance. That's more real pleasure than the cards. And we will
try to have a gay winter for you. But after all we cannot compete with
Philadelphia. I believe I shall try to get transferred from this dull
little hole."
"I do not expect to be gay. The great friend I made before married and
went to Paris. And M. de Ronville is an invalid, confined mostly to
the house during the winter. I am going to be a sort of companion to
him. He begs so to have me come."
Archie would be there. A sudden unreasoning anger flamed up in his
heart and then dropped down to the white ashes of despair. Was there
any use caring for a woman who would not or could not care for you?
There were other girls----
"You have really decided to go?" her mother said afterward.
"Oh, I hate to leave you." Her arms were about her mother's neck. "Yet
for some things it seems best. And the old story will be the more
easily forgotten. I may make it appear of less importance to myself.
It has grown quite dreamlike to me."
"Yes," answered the mother under her breath.
So the fact was accepted. "You will never regret giving a few months
to an old man near his journey's end," said Mr. Bartram. "And I am
very glad for his sake."
Then preparations were made for the journey.
"You must not want for anything, nor be dependent on your good
friend," said her father. "And have all the pleasures you can. Youth
is the time to enjoy them."
It gave them a heartache to let her go. Mrs. Craig wished she could be
her companion again, but she was too old to take such a journey. And
now travelling was a more usual occurrence, and she found two ladies
who were going to Harrisburg, and who had travelled a great deal, even
been to Paris. Aldis Bartram was much relieved, for he hardly knew
how to entertain a being who was one hour a child and the next a
serious woman. The last two years he had sought mostly the society of
men. There were many grave questions to discuss, for the affairs of
the country were by no means settled.
It was a very pleasant journey in the early autumn. She enjoyed
everything with so much spirit and delight, but she was never
tiresomely effusive. The ladies had come from New Orleans and were
full of amazement at the rapid strides the country was making, and the
towns that were growing up along the route. Their stay in Pittsburg
had been brief and they were much amused at some of the descriptions
of the earlier days the little girl could recall, the memories of the
French great-grandfather, who had lived almost a hundred years, and
grandad, who in his earlier years had been what we should call an
athlete and was a master hand at games of all sorts. They were much in
vogue yet, since there were no play-houses to draw people together for
social enjoyment.
Mr. Bartram used to watch her with growing interest. Yes, she would be
invaluable to M. de Ronville, and a great relief to him this winter.
How had she so easily overlived the great blow of her wedding day! She
was a very child then, and truly knew nothing about love.
"We shall be in Philadelphia sometime before Christmas," explained
Mrs. Danvers, who was a widow. "We are thinking of settling ourselves
there, or in New York, and we shall be glad to take up the
acquaintance again. We have enjoyed your society very much, and truly
we are indebted to Mr. Bartram for many favors that a maid is apt to
blunder over. Women never get quite used to the rougher ways of the
world."
"And I shall be glad to see you again," the girl said with unaffected
pleasure. "I have enjoyed the journey with you very much."
How did she know just what to say without awkwardness, Mr. Bartram
wondered.
The quiet street and the old house seemed to give her a cordial and
familiar greeting. Mrs. Jarvis herself came to the door.
"Oh, my dear, we are so glad to have you back again," she cried with
emotion. "But how tall you are! You are no longer a little girl."
"I have the same heart after all that has happened;" and though she
smiled there were tears in her eyes.
A slow step came through the hall, and then she was held close to the
heart of her guardian, who had longed for her as one longs for a
child.
Yes, he was quite an old man. Pale now, with snowy hair and beard, and
a complexion full of fine wrinkles, but his eyes were soft and tender,
and had the glow of life in them.
"Oh," he exclaimed, "you still have the golden hair, and the peachy
cheeks, and smiling mouth. I was almost afraid you had changed and
grown grave. And your voice has the same ring. I am so thankful to
your parents for sparing you again. And, Aldis, you must not mind me,
for the business has fallen so behind that I shall not feel neglected
if you go to the office at once. We will devote the evening to talk.
Are you very tired with your journey?" That to Daffodil.
"No, it was so pleasant and entertaining, and some of it beautiful.
Then I do not tire easily."
M. de Ronville held her hand as if he was afraid she might escape, and
his longing eyes touched her very heart. But Mrs. Jarvis stepped up on
the stairs, and giving him a tender smile, she followed.
Nothing had been changed. Why, she might have left it only yesterday.
As if Mrs. Jarvis had a similar thought about her she said, "My dear,
you are just the same, only grown up."
"And everything here is the same. I am very glad; it is like home."
There was the pretty dark blue-and-white toilette set, where the blue
looked as if somehow it had melted a little and run over the white.
She smiled, thinking how she used to wonder about it.
"This is Susan, our new maid. Mr. Bartram may have told you that Jane
was married. She has a good husband and a nice home. But Susan fills
the place very well, and now she will wait upon you with pleasure,"
announced Mrs. Jarvis.
Susan courtesied and smiled. She was younger than Jane, a fresh,
fair-looking girl, who had the appearance of having been scrubbed from
top to toe.
"And now, when you are ready, come down to the library and have a cup
of tea. Oh, I remember, you didn't care for tea, that's an old ladies'
comfort. Well, there are other refreshing things that will stay you
until supper. We have our dinner now in the middle of the day. M. de
Ronville likes it better. Feel thoroughly at home, child."
Susan unpacked her belongings and put them in drawers and the spacious
closet, where Daffodil thought they must feel lonesome.
She went downstairs presently, fresh and bright, having chosen her
simplest frock, and tied her curls in a bunch behind, instead of
putting them high on her head with a comb. On her pretty neck she wore
the chain and pendant M. de Ronville had given her. She looked very
sweet and youthful.
He motioned her to the sofa beside him.
"I understand how it is, that children and grandchildren keep one
young," he began. "It is the new flow of life that vivifies the old
pulses. And I advise all young men to marry;" smiling a little.
"After awhile business loses its keen interest, and when you have
made enough, why should you go on toiling and moiling? Then comes the
time you want to take an interest in younger lives. And now tell me
about your mother and father, who is prospering greatly, Aldis has
written. And the little brother."
She was in full flow of eager talk when Susan brought in the tray with
some tea and dainty biscuits, and golden-hearted cake, and Mrs. Jarvis
followed her and drew up the little table.
"You see, I am quite pampered. I like a cup of tea at mid-afternoon,
for the reason that it makes a break in a rather lonely time. I go out
in the morning, when I can, but I take the garden and the porch in the
afternoon, and in the evening friends drop in."
Daffodil had a glass of milk. There were some delightful sandwiches,
and she was really hungry, as they had not stopped for much dinner at
noon. And as she glanced around she saw more cases had been added, and
were filled with books, and two or three paintings and beautiful
vases. The room did have a cosy aspect, with some easy chairs that
were just coming in for elderly people. Young people were expected to
sit up straight.
Afterward they walked in the garden. There were choice late roses in
bloom, and flowers she had never seen before. Smooth paths of sand
beaten hard, here a way of fine white gravel that looked like a snowy
ribbon between the green. How beautiful it was! This was what money
and education and taste could do. Pittsburg was beginning to have the
money, to prosper and boast, but all things seemed in a muddle,
compared to this.
She was merry and sweet, and yet it did not seem to her as if it came
from a true heart. Was she sorry she had come. Was not her place back
there! Was it not her duty _not_ to outgrow Pittsburg, for there she
must live her life out. And when she was an old lady there would be
Felix, who would marry and have children growing up, true Duvernays,
for he would take the name, not her husband.
When they went in the paper had come, and she read that to him. She
had stepped so naturally into the old place. Susan began to arrange
the table, Mr. Bartram came in looking really fagged out, but
cordially attentive and chatty with the happenings.
It was a sort of high tea, and there was an air about everything
different from their simplicity at home, but Mr. Bartram had adapted
himself so readily to that. Was it out of kindly consideration?
"Now, I am going to dismiss you, my little dear," exclaimed the old
man gently, "for I want to hear what Aldis has to say. And you have
been very sweet and patient. Promise that you will not disappear in
the night."
"Oh, I promise. I am not a bird that I could fly back in the night,
and then I think only evil birds fly at that period."
He kissed her on the forehead. She sat on the porch awhile with Mrs.
Jarvis, and then went to bed in the room that was sweet with rose and
lavender. Well, so was her pillow at home. But it was so still here.
Even the insects seemed to have modulated their shrillness. She buried
her face in the softness and cried. Was she regretting the change? Was
some gladness, some hope, lost out of her life, that could never come
again?
It was bright morning when she woke. Even the very sun seemed to shine
in gladness. Susan came, bringing her some water, and wished her
good-morning. Yes, it should be a good morning and a good day.
They went to drive when the mists of the night had blown away. Oh, how
gay everything looked! Stores had increased, beautiful buildings had
gone up, and there was the President's residence. Lady Washington, as
many people still called her, came out with her maid and her black
servant, with a huge basket. There were others doing the same thing,
for it was quite a fashion of the day, though some people were
beginning to be waited on by the market men. Ladies in carriages and
men walking or riding bowed to M. de Ronville, and wondered who the
pretty girl beside him could be. He quite enjoyed the surprised look
they gave her.
Then he took a rest on the sofa, and begged her to tell him of the
changes they had made in the house, and the boats her father was
building, and what new industries had been started. And was grandad as
bright and merry as ever? And the ignoble whiskey insurrection; the
soldiers at the Fort!
Everything had so much interest for him, and the time passed so
rapidly, that Mr. Bartram came home before they hardly thought of
dinner. He asked with a smile if she was homesick yet, and although
she shook her head with vague amusement, she wondered why she had
cried last night? They had some bright talk and then M. de Ronville
asked her if she did not want to go shopping with Mrs. Jarvis, who
would like very much to have her. Mr. Bartram had brought some papers
that must be looked over and signed. But she must not stay out too
late for his cup of afternoon tea.
The shopping was really a great diversion. They met several people,
who remembered her. And how funny it seemed to pay away so much money
for an article, but then there seemed plenty of paper money.
Chestnut Street was gay with riders, both men and women, and some of
the latter looked fine in their dark-green habits and gilt buttons.
There were many promenading, dressed in the quaint style of the day,
and not a few Friends in silvery-gray, with the close-fitting
scuttle-shaped bonnets.
"I am so glad you have come," was Susan's greeting. "There are two
ladies waiting to see you, Miss Daffodil, and M. de Ronville would
make me bring in the tea for them."
"Oh, what are their names?" cried the girl eagerly.
"I was not to tell you;" and a smile lurked behind Susan's lips.
She ran upstairs and took off her hat and mantle, and came into the
library wondering.
"Oh;" pausing to think for a moment. "It's Miss Pemberton, and--is it
Belinda?"
"Oh, you haven't changed a bit, except to grow tall;" and Belinda
almost hugged her. "But Mary is Mrs. Hassel, and has the darlingest
little boy you ever saw. Oh, do you remember our party out on the
lawn, and our picnic? I'm so glad you have come again. I'm the only
girl home now;" and then Belinda blushed deeply.
"And Mr. de Ronville would have us share his tea. I've heard it's a
kind of English fashion, which he ought not countenance, since he is
French, I tell him," said Mrs. Hassel jestingly. "But it is
delightful. I think I'll start it. A cup of tea seems to loosen one's
tongue."
"Do women really need the lubrication?" asked M. de Ronville with a
smile.
"Yes, they do. Think of three or four different women hardly knowing
what to say to each other, and after a few sips of tea they are as
chatty as you please. But I must say I was so delighted with his
charming news that I would have waited until dark for the chance of
seeing you."
"Oh, thank you;" and Daffodil blushed prettily.
"And we know a friend of yours, at least Jack does, a young doctor,
who is going to be great some day, and who is from Pittsburg, Dr.
Langdale."
"Oh, yes, I knew he was studying here."
"And he has made one or two remarkable discoveries about something or
other. Dr. Rush considers him one of the coming men."
"I am very glad to hear that. Oh, we all seemed children together. And
his older brother is a lieutenant at Fort Pitt."
"Can't he get a furlough? I'd like to see him," said Belinda gayly.
"He's tired of dull Fort Pitt, and was talking of getting exchanged.
That isn't quite right, I believe; it sounds as if he was a prisoner."
"We must go," insisted Mrs. Hassel. "We will hardly have time for
another call. M. de Ronville has been so fascinating."
"Oh, did I hold out a fascination?" mischievously.
"It was both," admitted Belinda. "And now we want to see ever so much
of you. Mary, give us a regular tea party; she only lives round in
Arch Street. And you will want to see the baby."
"Of course I will," said the young girl.
Then they made their adieus. Susan took away the tea-things.
"Was the shopping nice?" enquired her guardian.
"Oh, there are so many lovely things! I didn't mean to buy anything,
you know, but we looked at such an elegant pelisse. Only everything
costs so much!"
"Oh, economical little girl!"
"And the shopwoman would try on such a splendid white beaver that had
just come in with a beautiful long plume and a white satin bow on top.
Why, I felt as if I had just arrived from Paris!"
M. de Ronville leaned back and laughed. She looked so pretty and
spirited, standing here. He could imagine her in the white beaver and
handsome pelisse.
"How about the French?" he asked. "Have you forgotten it all?"
"Oh, no. Grandmere and I talk sometimes."
"We must have a little reading. Why, _we_ could talk as well. I
sometimes get rusty."
"It was very nice of the Pembertons to remember me," she said
reflectively.
"I had said you were likely to come, and they heard Mr. Bartram had
returned. So they came at once."
She could see he was proud of the compliment paid her.
"Now, you are tired," he said. "I'll read the paper for myself."
"No, no." She took it away playfully. "When my voice gets shaky, you
may ask me to stop;" and the mirth in her tone was good to hear.
How delightful it was to lean back comfortably and listen to the
pleasant voice, with its subtle variations. Ah, if Aldis Bartram could
have made sure of her in that other time, before she had learned to
love and had her sorrow. And now he seemed to be settled in bachelor
ways, and resolved to miss the sweetness of love and life.
"Aldis," he said, at the tea table, "do you know young Dr. Langdale?"
"In a way. He is not in my line, you know. A very promising young
fellow. Were you thinking of trying him?"
"Oh, no. But he is from Pittsburg. The Hassels and Miss Pemberton seem
to know him quite well. And he is a friend of Daffodil's."
"Oh, and is that lieutenant his brother?"
Daffodil blushed, though why, she could not have told, and she merely
nodded.
"Mrs. Hassel seems to think very highly of him."
"He's made some sort of discovery--they had him at Dr. Rush's, and he
is in a fair way to success. Score one for Pittsburg."
"But he has been studying here," rejoined Daffodil frankly.
The next day it rained, and rainy days seemed to affect M. de
Ronville, but he hardly noted it. They read and talked French, and had
a rather laughable time. And in the afternoon an old friend, Colonel
Plumsted, came in to play chess, and Daffodil watched, much
interested. Aldis was surprised to find his host in such good spirits
when he returned.
Mrs. Hassel gave her tea party soon after. Daffodil met several old
friends, who remembered the little girl. Belinda found time to impart
the secret that she and Jack Willing were engaged, though she meant to
have one good winter of fun before she was married. Jack seemed to be
a nice, jolly fellow. And there was Anton Wetherell and Arthur
Pemberton, and Arthur was asked to take her out to the supper table.
"Why, it's quite like old times to have you here again! Truly, I never
thought of your growing up. You were always in my mind as a little
golden-haired fairy that flashes about and then--do they return to the
'little folk'?"
"I haven't, you see. But I was not quite a fairy. And one grandfather
used to call me Yellowtop." She laughed musically.
"One? How many grandfathers did you have?"
"I had three at one time, one in every generation. But the oldest one
went away, and now there are only two."
"And I danced with you, I remember. I hope you haven't forgotten how.
We have dancing parties, as well as tea parties. We are considered
quite staid and sober-going people, but we young folks put in a good
deal of fun. Bel's engaged, I dare say she told you, and I am the only
solitary--shall I call myself a blossom? left on the parent stalk."
They both laughed at that. It takes so little to amuse young people.
"You'll have to go to one of Lady Washington's receptions, though in
the whisper of confidence be it said they are rather stiff. There's
the Norris house, that's the place for fun. The Norris girls find so
many bright people, and they're not the jealous kind, but they make
everybody shine."
Then Bel took her off to meet Miss Plumsted.
"I'm very glad to see you;" and Miss Plumsted's voice was honestly
sweet. "Grandfather goes to play chess with M. de Ronville. He is your
guardian, I believe. And now, are you going to live here?"
"Oh, no. I am here only on a visit. My parents and all my folks live
at Pittsburg."
"Oh, that seems way out West. The Ohio River is there, and they go out
to St. Louis and down to New Orleans. Is it a real city?"
"Not yet, but they are talking about it."
Then some one else came. Two or three of the young men dropped in
during the evening, and there was some music on a flute and a violin.
Altogether it was a very pleasant time, and Arthur Pemberton took her
home and asked if he might not have the pleasure of calling
occasionally.
She hardly knew what was proper. It seemed ungracious to say "no," so
she answered that he might.