SANS SOUCI.
Several miles from the manor of Luckenough, upon a hill not far from the
seacoast, stood the cottage of the Old Fields.
The property was an appendage to the Manor of Luckenoug--, and was at
this time occupied by a poor relation of Commodore Waugh, his niece,
Mary L'Oiseau, the widow of a Frenchman. Mrs. L'Oiseau had but one
child, a little girl, Jacquelina, now about eight or nine years of age.
Commodore Waugh had given them the cottage to live in, permission to
make a living, if they could, out of the poor land attached to it. This
was all the help he had afforded his poor niece, and all, as she said,
that she could reasonably expect from one who had so many dependents.
For several years past the little property had afforded her a bare
subsistence.
And now this year the long drought had parched up her garden and
corn-field, and her cows had failed in their yield of milk for the want
of grass.
It was upon a dry and burning day, near the last of August, that Mary
L'Oiseau and her daughter sat down to their frugal breakfast. And such a
frugal breakfast! The cheapest tea, with brown sugar, and a corn cake
baked upon the griddle, and a little butter--that was all! It was spread
upon a plain pine table without a tablecloth.
The furniture of the room was in keeping--a sanded floor, a chest of
drawers, with a small looking-glass, ornamented by a sprig of asparagus,
a dresser of rough pine shelves on the right of the fireplace, and a
cupboard on the left, a half-dozen chip-bottomed chairs, a
spinning-wheel, and a reel and jack, completed the appointments.
Mrs. L'Oiseau was devouring the contents of a letter, which ran thus:
"MARY, MY DEAR! I feel as if I had somewhat neglected you, but, the truth
is, my arm is not long enough to stretch from Luckenough to Old Fields.
That being the case, and myself and Old Hen being rather lonesome since
Edith's ungrateful desertion, we beg you to take little Jacko, and come
live with us as long as we may live--and of what may come after that we
will talk at some time. If you will be ready I will send the carriage for
you on Saturday.
"YOUR UNCLE NICK."
Mrs. L'Oiseau read this letter with a changing cheek--when she finished
it she folded and laid it aside in silence.
Then she called to her side her child--her Jacquelina--her Sans
Souci--as for her gay, thoughtless temper she was called. I should here
describe the mother and daughter to you. The mother needs little
description--a pale, black-haired, black-eyed woman, who should have
been blooming and sprightly, but that care had damped her spirits, and
cankered the roses in her cheeks.
But Jacquelina--Sans Souci--merits a better portrait. She was small
and slight for her years, and, though really near nine, would have
been taken for six or seven. She was fair-skinned, blue-eyed and
golden-haired. And her countenance, full of spirit, courage and
audacity. As she would dart her face upward toward the sun, her round,
smooth, highly polished white forehead would seem to laugh in light
between its clustering curls of burnished gold, that, together with the
little, slightly turned-up nose, and short, slightly protruded upper
lip, gave the charm of inexpressible archness to the most mischievous
countenance alive. In fact her whole form, features, expression and
gestures seemed instinct with mischief--mischief lurked in the kinked
tendrils of her bright hair; mischief looked out and laughed in the
merry, malicious blue eyes; mischief crept slyly over the bows of her
curbed and ruby lips, and mischief played at hide and seek among the
rosy dimples of her blooming cheeks.
"Now, Jacquelina," said Mrs. L'Oiseau, "you must cure yourself of these
hoydenish tricks of yours before you expose them to your uncle--remember
how whimsical and eccentric he is."
"So am I! Just as whimsical! I'll do him dirt," said the young lady.
"Good heaven! Where did you ever pick up such a phrase, and what upon
earth does doing any one 'dirt' mean?" asked the very much shocked lady.
"I mean I'll grind his nose on the ground, I'll hurry him and worry him,
and upset him, and cross him, and make him run his head against the
wall, and butt his blundering brains out. What did he turn Fair Edith
away for? Oh! I'll pay him off! I'll settle with him! Fair Edith shan't
be in his debt for her injuries very long."
From her pearly brow and pearly cheeks, "Fair Edith" was the name by
which the child had heard her cousin once called, and she had called her
thus ever since.
Mrs. L'Oiseau answered gravely.
"Your uncle gave Edith a fair choice between his own love and
protection, and the great benefits he had in store for her, and the
love of a stranger and foreigner, whom he disapproved and hated. Edith
deliberately chose the latter. And your uncle had a perfect right to act
upon her unwise decision."
"And for my part, I know he hadn't--all of my own thoughts. Oh! I'll do
him--"
"Hush! Jacquelina. You shall not use such expressions. So much comes of
my letting you have your own way, running down to the beach and watching
the boats, and hearing the vulgar talk of the fishermen."
On Saturday, at the hour specified, the carriage came to Old Field
Cottage, and conveyed Mrs. L'Oiseau and her child to Luckenough. They
were very kindly received by the commodore, and affectionately embraced
by Henrietta, who conducted them to a pleasant room, where they could
lay off their bonnets, and which they were thenceforth to consider as
their own apartment. This was not the one which had been occupied by
Edith. Edith's chamber had been left undisturbed and locked up by Mrs.
Waugh, and was kept ever after sacred to her memory.
The sojourn of Mrs. L'Oiseau and Jacquelina at Luckenough was an
experiment on the part of the commodore. He did not mean to commit
himself hastily, as in the case of his sudden choice of Edith as his
heiress. He intended to take a good, long time for what he called
"mature deliberation"--often one of the greatest enemies to upright,
generous, and disinterested action--to hope, faith, and charity, that I
know of, by the way. Commodore Waugh also determined to have his own
will in all things, this time at least. He had the vantage ground now,
and was resolved to keep it. He had caught Sans Souci young, before she
could possibly have formed even a childish predilection for one of the
opposite sex, and he was determined to raise and educate a wife for his
beloved Grim.