THE VISIT TO MISS SIBBY
Just such an evening the two cronies had passed on the day previous to
this sudden invitation to go to Miss Sibby's.
Rosemary hated to go. She knew to do so would involve the sacrifice of
their evening readings.
"Oh, Aunt Sukey," she said, as she buttoned up her blue bombazet
pelisse--"oh, to think that we had got into such an interesting part of
'The Children of the Abbey!' Amanda had just met Lord Mortimer! And now it
will be a week, or maybe a fortnight, before we can go on with it."
"Never mind, Rosemary. Your mother lets you stay with me nearly always,
and you are her only child, too, and she is a widow; so when she sends for
us we must go," said Aunt Sukey.
"Oh, yes, I know; but Amanda and Lord Mortimer----"
"Never mind Amanda and Lord Mortimer; they can wait until we come back.
Now roll up your quilt pieces, and we will put them in my bag. Come! are
you ready?"
"Yes, Aunt Sukey, soon as I have pulled on my mits."
"Now we must go and take leave of Molly and the children," said Miss
Grandiere.
But as she spoke, there entered from the door on the right of the
fireplace a pretty, fragile woman of about forty-five years of age, who,
with the exception of her fair skin, blue eyes and brown hair, bore not
the slightest resemblance to her tall, stately and handsome sister. She
was dressed in a brown, linsey gown, white apron, white neck shawl and
white cap. She was closely followed by two little girls of ten and twelve
years of age, fair and blue-eyed, like their mother, with frocks that
seemed to have been cut off the same piece as their mother's gown. These
were the two children of the house--Erina and Melina Elk.
"Why, I have just heard from Dan that you are going Down on the Bay," said
the newcomer.
"Yes; Dolly Hedge has sent for us; and as I wanted to go so as to see the
wedding at All Faith on Tuesday, I think it is rather lucky that she has
sent."
"How long are you going to stay?"
"Until after the wedding, certainly; perhaps longer."
"Well, I do feel so ashamed of the Forces for throwing off their own flesh
and blood for the sake of a stranger and a foreigner, that I have no
patience with them; and I wouldn't go to the wedding, no, not if it was
next door!"
"But, Molly, the young lady fell in love with the English officer; and I
think it was very noble of her father to sacrifice his own dearest hopes
on the shrine of his daughter's happiness."
"Oh, don't talk to me about shrines and sacrifices! That's all out of the
romances you wear your eyes out reading at night. I believe in neighbors
and in kinsfolks, not in strangers and foreigners. There!"
"Well, Molly, you have a right to your own opinions, and the Forces have a
right to theirs. You must admit that!"
"Yes; and the heathen have a right to theirs, I suppose you think,
Sukey."
"No; that is carrying the matter too far. But good-by, Molly. We must go
now. We will be back as soon as we can."
The departing ones kissed their relatives, and went out to the block,
where Dan stood holding the horse.
Henny followed with a heavy shawl, which she folded and laid upon the
saddle.
"Mind, girl; as soon as you have cleaned up the room, get ready and come
after us. We may stay longer than we expect Down on the Bay, so you must
bring a change of clothes with you. Be sure to start from here in time to
get to Oldfield before night. I don't like, the idea of your going through
the forest alone after dark," said Miss Grandiere.
"Nebber you fear, Miss Sukey. I be down at Olefiel' by de time yo' dere
yo'se'f--fo' sundown, anyhow," said the negro girl, as she helped her
mistress to climb into the saddle, and then lifted Rosemary up to a seat
behind her.
"Now, Miss Rose'ry, yo' hole on tight. Put yo' arms 'roun' yo' Aunt
Sukey's waist, and hole on tight. Don't you slip off! Look'ee here, yo'
nigger Dan; yo' walk 'longside ob dis chile, case she fall off. Tell yo'
wot, nigger, ef dis chile fall off an' break her arm or anyfing, yo'
better not show yo' face at Olefiel'--nor likewise here, needer! Yo' hears
me, doan yo'?"
"Oh, Aunt Henny, I am not going to fall off; nor neither would Dan let me.
Poor Dan! Don't scold him beforehand," pleaded Rosemary.
"High, chile, 'twould be too late to scold arterward. Wot I sez is, do
you' scoldin' an' yo' whippin' 'fo' dere's any cause fer it--'taint no
good to do it arterward; 'twon't ondo nuffin' wot's done," said Henny; but
her wisdom was lost on the party, who had already started on their way,
aunt and niece riding double, and Dan walking beside the horse.
Their way lay over snow-covered ground, through bare woods, up and down
rolling hills, and over frozen streams.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when they emerged from the last
piece of woods and entered upon a cultivated clearing, in which stood an
old-fashioned farmhouse, with a steep roof with gable ends, dormer
windows, and wide porches, surrounded by its barn, granaries and negro
quarters.
As Miss Grandiere pulled up at the horse block before the door, a lady,
tall, stately, handsome, with a fair complexion, blue eyes and brown hair,
very like Miss Grandiere herself, and handsomely dressed in a puce-colored
silk pelisse, and a beaver bonnet, appeared at the door, and said:
"You haven't time to stop, Sukey. Sally and the children are all well, and
are in the storeroom picking over apples. You can see them when we come
home this evening; but now we must hurry; so you just get down and set the
child in your seat, and let Dan lead the horse, and we will walk through
the woods to Miss Sibby's. I don't know what is going on there, but
something is."
"I thought it was hot biscuits out of the new flour," said Miss
Grandiere.
"Yes, it is that, too," replied Mrs. Hedge, without perceiving the
sarcasm; "but there is something else--something that that wild young
blade, Roland Bayard, and that young Midshipman Force, have on foot. I
know there is!"
"Roland Bayard! Has he come home?"
"So Gad says. I couldn't get much out of that nigger, though. He said he
was in a hurry, and hadn't time to stop. He said he had to carry that bag
of wheat to the mill and get it ground, and carry it back home in time to
make bread for supper; so you see I couldn't get much out of him."
By this time the new order of procession was formed, and the sisters
walked on together, followed by little Rosemary on the saddle, and Dan
leading the horse.
"I should not think," said Miss Grandiere, "that young Midshipman Force
would feel very much like skylarking after such a disappointment and
mortification as he has had."
"No would you, now? But then he was a mere boy, and she only a child, when
they were engaged; and then after three years, you know, both might have
changed their minds," suggested practical Mrs. Hedge.
"I don't know," sighed sentimental Miss Grandiere.
"Well, I tell you, of all the scapegrace, devil-may-care, never-do-well,
neck-or-nothing boys that ever lived or died in this world, that Roland
Bayard is the very worst! I am sorry young Force has anything to do with
him."
"I don't think he is evil at heart," pleaded Miss Grandiere.
"'Evil at heart'" repeated Mrs. Hedge, reflectively. "No, perhaps not."
"He is a little wild, to be sure."
"'A little wild!' He is enough to break Miss Sibby's heart!"
"I don't see why. He is no kin to her."
"No; but she loves him as if he were her only son. She liked to have cried
her eyes out when he went to sea, you know."
"Yes, I know. And yet it was as good a career as he could enter upon. The
merchant service is not so genteel as the navy, to be sure, but, then, it
is really more promising, in a lucrative point of view, and a young man of
no family need not mind about the gentility."
"Yet that is just what grieved Miss Sibby's heart--that her adopted nephew
should be obliged to gratify his passion for the sea by entering the
merchant service instead of the United States Navy."
"Poor Miss Sibby! It is hard to say whether her pride in her own descent
or her love for her adopted nephew is her ruling passion," concluded Miss
Grandiere, with a smile.
Their walk had now brought them to the borders of a frozen creek, on the
other side of which stood a small farmhouse, surrounded by a few
outbuildings.
This was "Forest Rest," or "Miss Sibby's," as it was frequently called.
At the open door stood a short, stout old lady, in a homespun brown linsey
gown, a white apron, and a white cap.
She had seen the approach of visitors from her window, and had come out to
welcome them.
"How do? How do?" she exclaimed, holding out both hands and shaking them,
right and left. "How dee do? Why, I'm mighty proud to see you! Come in!
Come in out'n the cold!" she added, as she led her visitors through the
front door that opened immediately into the principal room of the house.
It was a large, homely room, with whitewashed walls, bare floor, large
open fireplace, and two front windows, shaded with blue paper blinds. It
was plainly furnished with a pine table, chip chairs, corner cupboard,
tall clock, and all the usual features of the rustic parlor. Its great
redeeming point was the glowing fire of oak logs that burned in the broad
chimney.
"Come right here and sit down, and get a good warm before you take off
your things. Make yourself comfortable, sez I! never mind looks," said
Miss Sibby, drawing chairs close to the hearth for her half frozen
guests.
"So Roland has come home, I hear, Miss Sibby," began Mrs. Hedge, as she
stretched her benumbed fingers over the fire.
"Yes, he has, safe and sound; thanks be to the Lord! He got home the very
selfsame day that young Le Force arrove; though nyther of them knowed
anything about the other's coming 'til they met by accident at old Luke
Barriere's store. Now, wasn't that a coinference? 'Truth is stranger nor
friction,' sez I."
"Is he going to sea again, Miss Sibby?" inquired Miss Grandiere.
"Well, I reckon sooner or later he must go, if he won't do nothing else. A
young youth must do something for a living, sez I; and if he don't do one
thing he must do another, sez I. But I do hope next time as he may get a
berth along of your brother George. When is Capting Grandiere expected
home?"
"I don't know. He was at Rio de Janeiro when we heard from him last."
"Ah me! so far as that? That's on the coast of Guinea, ain't it?"
"No; Brazil, South America."
"Well, Lord knows that's far enough. I did hope as the _Kitty_ would be
coming home soon, and Roland could get a berth 'long o' Capting Grandiere.
But there's nothing but disappointment in this world, sez I!"
"The worst case of disappointment I know of is that of poor young Leonidas
Force!" said Mrs. Hedge.
"Now ain't it, though" chimed in Miss Sibby.
"To come home to meet his sweetheart, and find her just about to be
married to another man!"
"And him a furriner! That's what makes me sick! A furriner! Them as has
the least to do with furriners, sez I, comes the best off, sez I! It's all
the gal's fault, too! She fell in love along of this furriner! And her
father, he give in to her, 'cause she cried and took on! But, Lor'! what
could you expect of the young thing, sez I? 'Trot sire, trot dam,' sez I,
'the colt will never pace,' sez I! And you may take my word for that."
"What do you mean, Miss Sibby? How do you apply the proverb to this case?"
inquired Miss Grandiere.
"Why, don't you see? What did her daddy do? 'Stead o' marrying of some old
neighbor's darter, like you, Miss Sukey----"
"No, I thank you!" put in Miss Grandiere.
"Or me," continued Miss Sibby, without noticing the interruption, "or some
other, as everybody knows all about, what did he go and do? Why, he went
'way out yonder to the Devil's Icy Peak, summers, and married of a
stranger and a furriner, and a heathen and a pagan, for aught he knew! and
fetches of her home here to us! That's what her daddy did! And now, what
did her mammy do? Why, 'stead o' marrying of one of her own countrymen and
kinsfolks, she ups and marries a 'Merican man as was a stranger and
furriner to her; and a heathen and a pagan for aught that she knew."
"But they loved one another; there is no question of that," pleaded Miss
Grandiere.
"What if they did? That's the contrariness of it, sez I! What call had
either of 'em be 'a loving of strangers and furriners and a marrying of
them, sez I? And now the gal has done just as her father and mother did
before her! Turned her back on her own kith and kin, and took up 'long of
a stranger and a furriner, and a heathen and a pagan, for aught she knows,
sez I! It's in the blood, sez I! 'Trot sire, trot dam,' sez I! 'and the
colt'll never pace,' sez I! And now, ladies, if you have thawed out and
will take off your bonnets and things, I will put them away. But maybe you
would rather go to a bedroom?"
"Yes," said Miss Grandiere, rising and going to a door on the side leading
into an inner chamber.
"Oh! stop. Don't go in there, please, Miss Sukey, I--I have got a strange
lady in there," hastily exclaimed their hostess.
"A strange lady!" repeated Miss Grandiere, in surprise.
"Yes--leastways a strange woman. I don't know about a lady; for if you're
not acquainted with a person, sez I, you can't tell if they are ladies or
no. But come upstairs and I will tell you about her, or leastways all I
know about her. Lor', I sometimes s'picions as maybe she's Roland's
mother!"