ROSE CLARK.
BY
FANNY FERN.
NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY MASON BROTHERS
1856.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
MASON BROTHERS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court, for the Southern
District of New York.
STEREOTYPED BY
THOMAS B. SMITH,
82 & 84 Beekman Street.
PRINTED BY
JOHN A. GRAY,
97 Cliff St.
Reader!
When the frost curtains the windows, when the wind whistles fiercely at
the key-hole, when the bright fire glows, and the tea-tray is removed,
and father in his slippered feet lolls in his arm-chair; and mother with
her nimble needle "makes auld claes look amaist as weel as new," and
grandmamma draws closer to the chimney-corner, and Tommy with his plate
of chestnuts nestles contentedly at her feet; then let my unpretending
story be read. For such an hour, for such an audience, was it written.
Should any _dictionary on legs_ rap inopportunely at the door for
admittance, send him away to the groaning shelves of some musty library,
where "literature" lies embalmed, with its stony eyes, fleshless
joints, and ossified heart, in faultless preservation.
Then, should the smile, and the tear, have passed round, while the
candle flickers in the socket, if but one kindly voice murmur low,
"MAY GOD BLESS HER!"
it will brighten the dreams of
FANNY FERN.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
THE ORPHAN ASYLUM--ROSE'S INTRODUCTION TO IT--MRS.
MARKHAM--ROSE'S INITIATION--TIMMINS 15
CHAPTER II.
MR. BALCH. 27
CHAPTER III.
ROSE'S COMPANIONS--THE DINING-TABLE AND THE SCHOOLROOM. 30
CHAPTER IV.
AUNT DOLLY--HOW IT CAME TO PASS--TWO OLD MAIDS' OPINIONS
ON LITERATURE, MEN AND MARRIAGE GENERALLY, AND
ON THE BACHELORS OF DIFFTOWN PARTICULARLY. 34
CHAPTER V.
LITTLE TIBBS--AN INSTANCE OF MRS. MARKHAM'S "MOTHERLY
CARE" OF THE ORPHANS. 39
CHAPTER VI.
THE FASHIONABLE UNDERTAKER. 45
CHAPTER VII.
THE INVESTIGATING COMMITTEE "INSPECT" THE ASYLUM--MR.
BALCH PRIVATELY RECORDS THE VERDICT ON THE HAND OF
THE MATRON. 48
CHAPTER VIII.
TIBBS' GHOST. 54
CHAPTER IX.
AUNT DOLLY REMOVES ROSE FROM THE ASYLUM--THE RIDE
"HOME"--DOLLY'S IDEAS OF NATURE, SENTIMENT, AND DUTY. 57
CHAPTER X.
AUNT DOLLY REFUSES ROSE'S REQUEST TO BE SENT TO SCHOOL,
AND ATTEMPTS TO CONVINCE HER THAT LYING IS THE BEST
POLICY. 68
CHAPTER XI.
MR. CLIFTON, THE VILLAGE MINISTER--THE PARSONAGE. 71
CHAPTER XII.
MR. CLIFTON'S PASTORAL CALL ON DOLLY--THE CONVERSATION
ABOUT ROSE. 76
CHAPTER XIII.
DEATH AT THE PARSONAGE. 82
CHAPTER XIV.
ROSE REQUESTS OF AUNT DOLLY A MEMENTO OF HER MOTHER. 86
CHAPTER XV.
ROSE IN THE MILLINER SHOP. 90
CHAPTER XVI.
MRS. CLIFTON VISITS "THE BABY'S" GRAVE--A PLEASANT
SURPRISE--DOLLY'S SICKNESS--DAFFY'S SOLILOQUY. 94
CHAPTER XVII.
DOLLY CONVALESCES AND EFFERVESCES--BAKING-DAY, AND
ROSE'S FIRST ATTEMPT AT COOKING--HEART'S-EASE. 101
CHAPTER XVIII.
VILLAGE GOSSIP--THE DESOLATE PARSONAGE. 109
CHAPTER XIX.
THE CHILD-MOTHER--AUNT DOLLY'S LETTER. 112
CHAPTER XX.
A GLIMPSE AT BACHELOR QUARTERS. 119
CHAPTER XXI.
ROSE'S SICK BABE--AUNT DOLLY, AS THE FASHIONABLE MRS.
JOHN HOWE. 122
CHAPTER XXII.
OLD MRS. BOND'S VISIT TO THE CITY--SILENT REPROOF. 128
CHAPTER XXIII.
MR. FINELS, MRS. HOWE'S INTIMATE FRIEND--MRS. BOND'S
INTERVIEW WITH ROSE. 133
CHAPTER XXIV.
A PASSAGE-AT-ARMS BETWEEN MRS. HOWE AND HER FASHIONABLE
FEMALE FRIEND. 147
CHAPTER XXV.
MR. HOWE ATTEMPTS AN INDEPENDENT COURSE OF ACTION--HE
REMOVES ROSE AND LITTLE CHARLEY FROM THE ATTIC TO THE
BEST SPARE ROOM--MRS. HOWE "LETS HIM HEAR FROM IT." 152
CHAPTER XXVI.
ROSE MAKES AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY--MR. HOWE VENTURES
ON A CONNUBIAL JOKE--THE RESULT OF MR. HOWE'S
JOKE--ROSE AND HER SICK BABE IN THE STAGE-COACH. 158
CHAPTER XXVII.
MRS. BOND'S RECEPTION OF ROSE--THE OLD LADY'S CHRISTIAN
FAITH AND PHILOSOPHY. 170
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE WASH-ROOM--THE BRUTAL REMARK. 172
CHAPTER XXIX.
MISS BODKIN'S ACCOUNT OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF MRS.
JOHN HOWE. 176
CHAPTER XXX.
THE FLIGHT OF ROSE, WITH LITTLE CHARLEY. 181
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE CHRISTENING, AT MRS. HOWE'S--THE SECRET WHISPER--THE
DENOUEMENT. 184
CHAPTER XXXII.
ROSE AT SEA--CAPTAIN LUCAS--FRITZ--DOCTOR PERRY--THE
MARRIAGE PROPOSAL. 189
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE CAPTAIN AND DR. PERRY--ARRIVAL IN NEW ORLEANS. 198
CHAPTER XXXIV.
ROSE'S NEW HOME--THE MANIAC'S STORY--NEWS OF VINCENT. 202
CHAPTER XXXV.
MRS. HOWE THINKS IT TIME TO GO TO THE SPRINGS--MR. HOWE
ATTEMPTS TO CHERISH AN OPINION OF HIS OWN--THE MAGIC
WHISPER. 209
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 212
CHAPTER XXXVII.
ROSE'S ILLNESS. 215
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE LADY ARTIST. 218
CHAPTER XXXIX.
GERTRUDE'S STORY. 226
CHAPTER XL.
MR. AND MRS. HOWE ON THE ROAD TO THE SPRINGS--A RAILROAD
ACCIDENT--THE TABLES TURNED. 256
CHAPTER XLI.
CHARLEY'S INTRODUCTION TO THE VINCENT MANSION--DOCTOR
PERRY AGAIN SEEKS TO MAKE ROSE HIS WIFE--GERTRUDE'S
LOCKET--THE RECOGNITION. 264
CHAPTER XLII.
MADAME VINCENT'S PRESENT TO CHARLEY. 278
CHAPTER XLIII.
JOHN AND GERTRUDE--A BIT OF WOMAN'S PHILOSOPHY. 280
CHAPTER XLIV.
ROSE PROPOSES TO TURN AUTHORESS--GERTRUDE GIVES HER
SOME CHOICE SPECIMENS OF CRITICISM. 286
CHAPTER XLV.
MISS ANNE COOPER--MADAME VINCENT'S SEXAGENARIAN LOVE
REMINISCENCES. 291
CHAPTER XLVI.
MADAME VINCENT'S VISIT TO ROSE. 300
CHAPTER XLVII.
MISS ANNE COOPER'S DIPLOMACY. 304
CHAPTER XLVIII.
MADAME MACQUE TURNS ROSE OUT OF DOORS. 369
CHAPTER XLIX.
CUPID IN THE KITCHEN--HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS. 312
CHAPTER L.
A LETTER FROM MR. FINELS. 320
CHAPTER LI.
ROSE, GERTRUDE, AND JOHN, AT NIAGARA--THE AGED
COUPLE--THE HUSBAND CARRIED OVER THE FALLS, AND
THE MOURNER'S STORY. 323
CHAPTER LII.
A CHAPTER ON MAN'S VANITY. 335
CHAPTER LIII.
MARKHAM FOUND OUT--BALCH REPENTANT. 340
CHAPTER LIV.
THE UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE OF MR. STAHLE, AND ITS
CONSEQUENCES. 344
CHAPTER LV.
ROSE'S DREAM. 349
CHAPTER LVI.
A SCENE IN MRS. HOWE'S PARLOR. 353
CHAPTER LVII.
MRS. BOND'S STRANGE VISITOR. 359
CHAPTER LVIII.
ANOTHER LETTER FROM MR. FINELS. 366
CHAPTER LIX.
A CHAPTER ON BOSTON, ITS INHABITANTS AND ENVIRONS. 368
CHAPTER LX.
JOHN'S DREAM. 376
CHAPTER LXI.
SCENE ON BOARD CAPTAIN LUCAS'S SHIP. 379
CHAPTER LXII.
GERTRUDE'S SORROWFUL DAY. 383
CHAPTER LXIII.
A THIRD LETTER FROM MR. FINELS. 385
CHAPTER LXIV.
CHARLEY'S CHILD-SORROW. 389
CHAPTER LXV.
MRS. BOND'S FUNERAL. 394
CHAPTER LXVI.
THE MEETING OF JOHN AND THE STRANGER. 379
CHAPTER LXVII.
THE STRANGER IN GERTRUDE'S STUDIO--ROSE'S PICTURE
RECOGNIZED--THE MEETING. 402
CHAPTER LXVIII.
VINCENT'S STORY. 405
CHAPTER LXIX.
JOHN'S TRIUMPH. 410
CHAPTER LXX.
JOHN AND VINCENT. 412
CHAPTER LXXI.
PEACE--RETRIBUTION. 414
ROSE CLARK.
CHAPTER I.
"Here is number fifty-four, Timmins," said the matron of a
charity-school to her factotum, as she led in a little girl about six
years of age; "number fifty-four; you must put another cot in the long
hall, and another plate in the eating-room. What is your name, child?"
"Rose," replied the little one, vailing her soft, dark eyes under their
curtaining lashes, and twisting the corner of a cotton shawl.
"Rose!" repeated the matron, in a contemptuous aside, to Timmins; "I
knew it would be sure to be something fanciful; beggars always go on
stilts."
"I am not a beggar," said the child, "I am mother's little Rose."
"Mother's little Rose?" repeated the matron, again, in the same sneering
tone; "well--who was mother?"
"Mother is dead," said the child, with a quivering lip.
"No loss, either," said Mrs. Markham to Timmins, "since she did not
know better than to let the child run in the streets."
"Mother was sick, and I had to go of errands," said the child,
defensively.
"Ah, yes--always an excuse; but do you know that I am the matron of this
establishment? and that you must never answer me back, in that way? Do
you know that you must do exactly as I and the committee say? Timmins,
bring me the scissors and let us lop off this mop of a wig," and she
lifted up the clustering curls, behind which Rose seemed trying to hide.
"There--now you look proper and more befitting your condition," said
Mrs. Markham, as the sheared lamb rose from its kneeling posture and
stood before her. "Timmins, Timmins!" Mrs. Markham whispered, "don't
throw away those curls; the hairdresser always allows me something
handsome for them. It is curious what thick hair beggar children always
have."
"But I am not a beggar," said Rose again, standing up very straight
before Mrs. Markham.
"Look at it," said Mrs. Markham, with a sneer; "look at it, Timmins, it
is 'not a beggar.' Look at its ragged frock, and soiled shawl, and torn
pinafore; it 'is not a beggar.' We shall have some work to do here,
Timmins. Come here, Rose."
"Did you hear me, child?" she repeated, as Rose remained stationary.
The child moved slowly toward Mrs. Markham.
"Look me in the eye."
Rose cast a furtive glance at the stern, hard face before her.
"Do you know that naughty girls, in this house, stay in dark closets."
Rose shuddered, but made no reply.
"Ah, I thought so; you had better remember that. Now, go away with
Timmins, and have the school uniform put on; 'not a beggar!' was there
ever the like of that?" and Mrs. Markham settled herself in her
rocking-chair, put her feet upon the sofa, and composed herself for her
after-dinner nap.
As she reclines there, we will venture to take a look at her: not a
phrenological glance, for she has a cap on her head; under its frilled
borders peep some wiry artificial curls; her lips are thin and vixenish;
her nose sharp and long, with a bridge which seems to defy the beholder
to cross her will; her dress clings very tightly to her bean-pole
figure; and on her long arm hangs a black velvet bag, containing her
spectacles, snuff-box, and some checkerberry lozenges, which she has a
pleasant way of chewing before the children in school hours. You may
know that she expects a call to-day, because she has on her festal gilt
breast-pin with a green stone in the center.
"Beg your pardon, ma'am; sorry to wake you," said Timmins, with a very
flushed face; "but I can't do nothing with that young one, though I have
tried my best. I went up stairs to wash her all over, according to rule,
before I put on the school uniform; and when I began to strip her, she
pulled her clothes all about her, and held them tight, and cried, and
took on, saying that nobody ever saw her all undressed but her mother,
and all that sort of thing."
"The affected little prude! and to break up my nap, too!" said Mrs.
Markham. "I'll teach her--come along, Timmins."
True enough; there stood Rose in the corner, as Timmins had said; her
dress half torn off in the scuffle, leaving exposed her
beautifully-molded shoulders and back, while with her little hands she
clutched the remaining rags closely about her person. With her dilated
nostrils, flushed cheeks, and flashing eyes, she made a tableau worth
looking at.
"Come here," hissed Mrs. Markham, in a tone that made Rose's flesh
creep.
Rose moved slowly toward her.
"Take off those rags--every one of them."
"I can not," said Rose; "oh, don't make me; I can not."
"Take them off, I say. What! do you mean to resist me?" (as Rose held
them more tenaciously about her;) and grasping her tightly by the wrist,
she drew her through a long passage-way, down a steep pair of stairs,
and pushing her into a dark closet, turned the key on her and strode
away.
"Obstinate little minx," she said, as she passed Timmins, on her return
to her rocking-chair and to her nap.
"Hark! Mrs. Markham! Mrs. Markham!--what's that groan? Hadn't I better
open the door and peep in?"
"That is always the way with you, Timmins: no, of course not. She can
affect groaning as well as she can affect delicacy; let her stay there
till her spirit is well broke; when I get ready I will let her out
myself;" and Mrs. Markham walked away.
But Timmins was superstitious, and that groan haunted her, and so she
went back to the closet to listen. It was all very still; perhaps it was
not Rose, after all; and Timmins breathed easier, and walked a few steps
away; and then again, perhaps it was, and Timmins walked back again. It
would do no harm to peep, at any rate; the key was in the lock, and Mrs.
Markham never would know it. Timmins softly turned it;--she called,
"Rose!"
No answer. She threw open the blind in the entry, that the light might
stream into the closet. There lay the child in strong convulsions.
Timmins knew she risked nothing in calling Mrs. Markham now.
"Come quick--quick--she is dying!"
"Pshaw! only a trick," said Mrs. Markham, more nervous than she chose
to acknowledge, as she consulted her watch and thought of the visitor
she was expecting.
"Take her up, Timmins," said she, after satisfying herself the child was
senseless, "take her into my room, and put her on the bed."
"Gracious! how can I?" asked Timmins, looking with dismay at the blood
flowing profusely from a wound in the temple, occasioned by her fall;
"she looks so dreadful, Mrs. Markham."
"Fool!" exclaimed that lady, as she snatched up the little sufferer in
her arms, and walked rapidly through the entry. "That's the door bell,
Timmins; that is Mr. Balch; tell him I will be there directly--mind--not
a word about the child, as you value your place. I have not forgotten
that brown soap business."
The cowed Timmins retired as she was bid; and Mrs. Markham, laying the
insensible child on the bed, closed the door of her room and applied the
proper restoratives; for her position involved some little knowledge of
the healing art. After a while, Rose opened her eyes, but as suddenly
closed them again, as they revealed the form of her persecutor.
"_You_ can attend to her now," said Mrs. Markham to Timmins, about half
an hour after, as she went down to receive Mr. Balch.
Timmins walked about the room uneasily, for Rose's ghastly face
distressed her.
"If she would only speak, or open her eyes!" but the child did neither.
Timmins coughed and hemmed, but Rose did not seem to notice it; at last,
going up to the bed-side, she passed her hand over her forehead.
"Don't," whispered Rose, glancing round the room as if afraid of seeing
Mrs. Markham; "don't try to make me well, I want to die."
"Oh, no, you don't," exclaimed Timmins, more frightened than ever;
"that's awful--you won't go to Heaven, if you talk that way."
"Won't I?" asked the child; "won't I go to Heaven and be with my
mother?"
"No," said Timmins, oracularly; "no--in course you won't; all of us has
to wait till we are sent for; we can't, none of us, hurry the time, or
put it off, nuther, when it comes."
"When will my time come?" asked Rose, sadly.
"Lor'! how you talk--don't go on that way; you've got a while to live
yet; you are nothing but a baby."
"Shall I always live here?" asked Rose, looking round again, as if in
fear of Mrs. Markham.
"You'll live here till you are bound out, I reckon."
"What's that?" asked Rose, innocently.
"Wall, I never!" exclaimed Timmins; "haven't you never heern about being
bound out?"
"No," answered Rose, a little ashamed of her ignorance.
"Wall, the upshot of it is, that you are sent away to live with any body
that Mrs. Markham and the committee say, and work for them just as long
as they tell you, for your meat, and drink, and clothing."
"What is a committee?" asked Rose.
"Why, it's Mr. Balch, and Mr. Skinner, and Mr. Flint, and Mr. Stone, and
Mr. Grant, and them."
"Can't you ever get away from the place where they send you?" asked
Rose.
"What a thing you are to ask questions. Yes, I spose you kin, if you die
or get married--it amounts to about the same thing," said Timmins, with
a shrug of her divorced shoulders.
"To whom shall I be bound out?" asked the child.
"Land's sake, as if I could tell; perhaps to one person, perhaps to
another."
This answer not being very satisfactory to Rose, she turned her face to
the pillow and heaved a deep sigh.
"Haven't you got no folks?" asked Timmins.
"What?"
"No folks? no relations, like?"
"None but Aunt Dolly."
"Who is Aunt Dolly?"
"I don't know; I never saw her till she brought me here."
"Where did she bring you from?"
"My mother's grave."
"Yes--but what house did you live in when she took you?"
"I didn't live in any house; all day long I sat on my mother's grave,
and, at night, I crept behind some boards, by the grave-yard, and slept.
"Land's sake, didn't you have nothing to eat?"
"Sometimes--I was not much hungry, my heart ached so bad; sometimes the
children gave me pieces of bread and cake, as they went to school."
"What did you do all day at your mother's grave?"
"Talked to mamma."
"Land's sake, child, dead folks can't hear."
"Can't they?" asked Rose, with a quivering lip. "Didn't my mamma hear
what I said to her?"
"In course not," answered Timmins. "Why, what a chick you are. If you
weren't so bright, I should think you was an idiot."
"What are you crying for?"
Rose kept on sobbing.
"Come now, don't take on so," said the uneasy Timmins, "you are not the
only person who has had a hard time of it. I was a little girl once."
"Were you?" asked Rose, wiping her eyes, and surveying Timmins's Meg
Merrilees proportions.
"Yes, of course," said Timmins, laughing; "just as if you didn't know
that every grown-up woman must have been a little girl once. Do you say
those things a purpose, or do they come by accident, like?"
"Did _your_ mother die?" asked Rose, not appearing to hear Timmins's
last question.
"Yes--and father, and brother, and sister, and the hull on 'em."
"Did you cry?"
"I 'spose so; I know I was awful hungry."
"But did you cry because your mother was dead?"
"Partly, I suppose."
"When you went to bed, did you think you saw her face with a cloud all
around it, and did you call 'Mother?' and did the eyes look sad at you,
but stay still where they were? and when you went up toward the cloud
and the face, did it all go away?"
"Lor', no; how you talk," said Timmins, as Rose's face grew still paler.
"Don't--you make my flesh creep."
"You wouldn't be afraid of your own dear mamma, would you?" asked Rose.
"Lor', yes, if she came to me that way," answered Timmins. "It isn't
natur', child; you saw a--a--," and Timmins hesitated to pronounce the
word ghost.
"I know you wouldn't run away from it, if it looked so sweet and loving
at you," said Rose; "but why did it not come nearer to me? and why did
it all fade away when I put out my arms to clasp it? That made me think
it couldn't be my mamma, after all; and yet it was mamma, too, but so
pale and sad."
"Wall--I don't know," said the perplexed Timmins; "you are beyend me; I
don't know nothing about sperrits, and I don't want to; but come here;
you've been asking me all sorts of questions, now I should like to ask
you one."
"Well," said Rose, abstractedly.
"What on airth made you carry on so like sixty about my washing you?
Don't you like me?"
"Y--e--s," replied Rose, blushing deeply.
"Wall, then, what was the matter with you? any scars on your body, or
any thing?"
"No," said Rose.
"What _did_ ail you, then? for I'm curious to know; why didn't you want
me to wash you?"
"It made me feel ashamed," said Rose; "nobody ever washed me but mamma;
I didn't mind my mamma."
"Wall, I'm beat if I can understand that," said Timmins, looking
meditatively down upon the carpet; "and one of your own sect, as they
call it, too. It seems ridikilis; but let me tell you, you'd better make
no fuss here; none of the other childern does."
"Other children?" asked Rose, "are there more children here? I did not
hear any noise or playing."
"No, I reckon you didn't," said Timmins, laughing. ("I wish to the land
Mrs. Markham had heard you say that;") and Timmins laughed again, as if
it was too good a joke to be thrown away on one listener.
"Are _their_ mothers dead, too, Timmins?"
"I dare say--I reckon some on 'em don't know much who their fathers and
mothers was," said Timmins.
"They had some, didn't they?"
"In course," said Timmins; "why, you are enough to kill old folks;
sometimes you are away beyend me, and sometimes not quite up to me, as
one may say, but you'd better shut up now, for Mrs. Markham will be
along presently."
"Do you think Mrs. Markham is a good woman?" asked Rose.
"About as good as you've seen," said the diplomatic Timmins, touching
the cut on Rose's temple; "the quicker you mind her when she speaks, the
better--that's all."
"Do _you_ like her?" asked Rose.
"No--sh--yes--why, what a thing you are to make people say what they
don't mean to. I like you, any how. But don't you never act as if I did,
before folks, because my hands is tied, you see."
"I don't know what you mean," said Rose.
"Sh--sh--didn't I tell you to shut up? Somebody is as stealthy as a
cat;" and Timmins looked uneasily at the key-hole of the door.