MALCOLM EVERETT.
It would be tiresome both to ourselves and our readers, were we to
enumerate the many mortifications which both Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone
were compelled to endure from their mother, who gradually came to
understand her true position in the family. One by one her ideas of
teaching them economy were given up, as was also all hopes of ever
being at all familiar with her daughter, whom, at her son’s request,
she had ceased to call “’Tilda.”
“Mebby you want me to say Miss Livingstone,” said she, “but I shan’t.
I’ll call her Miss Nichols, or Matilda, just which she chooses.”
Of course Mrs. Livingstone chose the latter, wincing, though, every
time she heard it. Dreading a scene which he knew was sure to follow a
disclosure of his engagement with Miss Nancy, Mr. Livingstone had
requested his mother to keep it from his wife, and she, appreciating
his motive, promised secrecy, lamenting the while the ill-fortune which
had prevented Nancy from being her daughter-in-law, and dwelling
frequently upon the comfort she should take were Nancy there in
Matilda’s place. On the whole, however, she was tolerably contented;
the novelty of Kentucky life pleased her, and at last, like most
northern people, she fell in with the habits of those around her. Still
her Massachusetts friends were not forgotten, and many a letter,
wonderful for its composition and orthography, found its way to Nancy
Scovandyke, who wrote in return that “some time or other she should
surely visit Kentucky,” asking further if the “big bugs” didn’t prefer
eastern teachers for their children, and hinting at her desire to
engage in that capacity when she came south!
“Now, that’s the very thing,” exclaimed Mrs. Nichols, folding the
letter (directed wrong side up) and resuming her knitting. “Nancy’s
larnin’ is plenty good enough to teach Caroline and Anny, and I mean to
speak to John about it right away.”
“I wouldn’t do any such thing,” said ’Lena, seeing at a glance how such
a proposal would be received.
“Why not?” asked Mrs. Nichols, and ’Lena replied, “I don’t think Nancy
would suit Aunt Livingstone at all, and besides that, they’ve engaged a
teacher, a Mr. Everett, and expect him next week.”
“You don’t say so?” returned Mrs. Nichols. “I never hearn a word on’t.
Where ’bouts is he from, and how much do they give him a week?”
The latter ’Lena knew nothing about, but she replied that “she believed
he was from Rockford, a village near Rochester, New York.”
“Why, Nancy Scovandyke’s sister lives there. I wouldn’t wonder if he
knew her.”
“Very likely,” returned Lena, catching her bonnet and hurrying off to
ride with Captain Atherton and Anna.
As we have once before observed, Anna was a great favorite with the
captain, who had petted her until John Jr. teased her unmercifully,
calling him her gray-haired lover, and the like. This made Anna
exceedingly sensitive, and now when the captain called for her to ride,
as he frequently did, she refused to go unless the invitation was also
extended to ’Lena, who in this way got many a pleasant ride around the
country. She was fast learning to like Kentucky, and would have been
very happy had her aunt and Carrie been a little more gracious. But the
former seldom spoke to her, and the latter only to ridicule something
which she said or did.
Many and amusing were the disputes between the two girls concerning
their peculiarities of speech, Carrie bidding ’Lena “quit her Yankee
habit of eternally _guessing_,” and ’Lena retorting that “she would
when Carrie stopped her everlasting _reckoning_.” To avoid the remarks
of the neighbors, who she knew were watching her narrowly, Mrs.
Livingstone had purchased ’Lena two or three dresses, which, though
greatly inferior to those worn by Carrie and Anna, were still
fashionably made, and so much improved ’Lena’s looks, that her manners
improved, also, for what child does not appear to better advantage when
conscious of looking well? More than once had her uncle’s hand rested
for a moment on her brown curls, while his thoughts were traversing the
past, and in fancy his fingers were again straying among the silken
locks now resting in the grave. It would seem as if the mother from her
coffin was pleading for her child, for all the better nature of Mr.
Livingstone was aroused; and when he secured the services of Mr.
Everett, who was highly recommended both as a scholar and gentleman, he
determined that ’Lena should share the same advantages with his
daughters. To this Mrs. Livingstone made no serious objection, for as
Mr. Everett would teach in the house, it would not do to debar ’Lena
from the privilege of attending his school; and as the highest position
to which she could aspire was to be governess in some private family,
she felt willing, she said, that she should have a chance of acquiring
the common branches.
And now Mr. Everett was daily expected. Anna, who had no fondness for
books, greatly dreaded his arrival, thinking within herself how many
pranks she’d play off upon him, provided ’Lena would lend a helping
hand, which she much doubted. John Jr., too, who for a time, at least,
was to be placed under Mr. Everett’s instruction, felt in no wise eager
for his arrival, fearing, as he told ’Lena that “between the ‘old man’
and the tutor, he would be kept a little too straight for a gentleman
of his habits;” and it was with no particular emotions of pleasure that
he and Anna saw the stage stop before the gate one pleasant morning
toward the middle of November. Running to one of the front windows,
Carrie, ’Lena, and Anna watched their new teacher, each after her own
fashion commenting upon his appearance.
“Ugh,” exclaimed Anna, “what a green, boyish looking thing! I reckon
nobody’s going to be afraid of him.”
“I say he’s real handsome,” said Carrie, who being thirteen years of
age, had already, in her own mind, practiced many a little coquetry
upon the stranger.
“I like him,” was ’Lena’s brief remark.
Mr. Everett was a pale, intellectual looking man, scarcely twenty years
of age, and appearing still younger so that Anna was not wholly wrong
when she called him boyish. Still there was in his large black eye a
firmness and decision which bespoke the man strong within him, and
which put to flight all of Anna’s preconceived notions of rebellion.
With the utmost composure he returned Mrs. Livingstone’s greeting, and
the proud lady half bit her lip with vexation as she saw how little he
seemed awed by her presence.
Malcolm Everett was not one to acknowledge superiority where there was
none, and though ever polite toward Mrs. Livingstone, there was
something in his manner which forbade her treating him as aught save an
equal. He was not to be trampled down, and for once in her life Mrs.
Livingstone had found a person who would neither cringe to her nor
flatter. The children were not presented to him until dinner time,
when, with the air of a young desperado, John Jr. marched into the
dining-room, eying, his teacher askance, calculating his strength, and
returning his greeting with a simple nod. Mr. Everett scanned him from
head to foot, and then turned to Carrie half smiling at the great
dignity which she assumed. With ’Lena and Anna he seemed better
pleased, holding their hands and smiling down upon them through rows of
teeth which Anna pronounced the whitest she had ever seen.
Mr. Livingstone was not at home, and when his mother appeared, Mrs.
Livingstone did not think proper to introduce her. But if by this
omission she thought to keep the old lady silent, she was mistaken, for
the moment Mrs. Nichols was seated, she commenced with, “Your name is
Everett, I b’lieve?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said he, bowing very gracefully toward her.
“Any kin to the governor that was?”
“No, ma’am, none whatever,” and the white teeth became slightly visible
for a moment, but soon disappeared.
“You are from Rockford, ’Lena tells me?”
“Yes, ma’am. Have you friends there?”
“Yes—or that is, Nancy Scovandyke’s sister, Betsy Scovandyke that used
to be, lives there. May be you know her. Her name is Bacon—Betsy Bacon.
She’s a widder and keeps boarders.”
“Ah,” said he, the teeth this time becoming wholly visible, “I’ve heard
of Mrs. Bacon, but have not the honor of her acquaintance. You are from
the east, I perceive.”
“Law, now! how did you know that!” asked Mrs. Nichols, while Mr.
Everett answered, “I _guessed_ at it,” with a peculiar emphasis on the
word guessed, which led ’Lena to think he had used it purposely and not
from habit.
Mr. Everett possessed in a remarkable degree the faculty of making
those around him both respect and like him, and ere six weeks had
passed, he had won the love of all his pupils. Even John Jr. was
greatly improved, and Carrie seemed suddenly reawakened into a thirst
for knowledge, deeming no task too long, and no amount of study too
hard, if it won the commendation of her teacher. ’Lena, who committed
to memory with great ease, and who consequently did not deserve so much
credit for her always perfect lessons, seldom received a word of
praise, while poor Anna, notoriously lazy when books were concerned,
cried almost every day, because as she said, “Mr. Everett didn’t like
her as he did the rest, else why did he look at her so much, watching
her all the while, and keeping her after school to get her lessons
over, when he knew how she hated them.”
Once Mrs. Livingstone ventured to remonstrate, telling him that Anna
was very sensitive, and required altogether different treatment from
Carrie. “She thinks you dislike her,” said she, “and while she retains
this impression, she will do nothing as far as learning is concerned;
so if you do not like her, try and make her think you do!”
There was a peculiar look in Mr. Everett’s dark eyes as he answered,
“You may think it strange, Mrs. Livingstone, but of all my pupils I
love Anna the best! I know I find more fault with her, and am perhaps
more severe with her than with the rest, but it’s because I would make
her what I wish her to be. Pardon me, madam, but Anna does not possess
the same amount of intellect with her cousin or sister, but by proper
culture she will make a fine, intelligent woman.”
Mrs. Livingstone hardly relished being told that one child was inferior
to the other, but she could not well help herself—Mr. Everett would say
what he pleased—and thus the conference ended. From that time Mr.
Everett was exceedingly kind to Anna, wiping away the tears which
invariably came when told that she must stay with him in the
school-room after the rest were gone; then, instead of seating himself
in rigid silence at a distance until her task was learned, he would sit
by her side, occasionally smoothing her long curls and speaking
encouragingly to her as she pored over some hard rule of grammar, or
puzzled her brains with some difficult problem in Colburn. Erelong the
result of all this became manifest. Anna grew fonder of her books, more
ready to learn, and—more willing to be kept after school!
Ah, little did Mrs. Livingstone think what she was doing when she bade
young Malcolm Everett make her warm-hearted, impulsive daughter _think_
he liked her!