"Please let me come in, and help you."
Regina knocked timidly at the door of the parsonage guest's chamber,
and Mrs. Lindsay answered from within:
"Come in? Of course you may, but what help do you imagine you can
render, you useless piece of prettiness? Shall I set you on the
mantlepiece between the china kittens, and the glass lambs, right
under the sharp nose of my grandmother's portrait, where her great
solemn eyes will keep you in order? Whence do all those delectable
odours come? Are you a walking _sachet?_"
She was kneeling before an open drawer of the bureau, methodically
arranging sundry garments, and, pausing in the task, looked over her
shoulder at the girl who stood near, holding her hands behind her.
"I am sure I could help you, if I were only allowed to try. I am
quite a large girl now, more than a year older than when I came here,
and Hannah has taught me to do ever so many things. She says I will
be a famous cook some day. You didn't know that I made up the Sally
Lunn for tea?"
"What an ambitious bit of majesty you are! You wish to reign in the
kitchen, rule in the poultry yard, and now presume to invade my
province--my special kingdom of making things ready for the Bishop?
Have you been anointing yourself with a whole vial of Lubin's extract
of--Ah!--delicious--what is it?"
"Whatever it may be, will you let me fix it to suit myself on the
Bishop's bureau?"
"No, you impertinent, wily Delilah in short clothes! I never promise
in the dark; show it to me first, and then perhaps I may negotiate
with you. You know as well as I do that the Bishop dearly loves
perfumes, and if I should generously concede you the privilege of
presenting 'sweet-smelling savours' unto him you might some day
depose me--and I wish you distinctly to understand that I intend to
reign over him as long as I live; not an inch of territory shall you
filch."
Regina held up her hands, displaying in one several feathery sprays
of Belgian honeysuckle, with half of its petals pearl, half of the
palest pink; in the other a bunch of double violets of the rarest
shade of delicate lilac, so unusual in the floral kingdom.
"You should be called 'Mab,' and ride about the world on a butterfly,
or a streak of moonshine. How did you coax or conjure that
honeysuckle into blooming before its appointed time?"
"Here are three pieces, two for the Bishop, and one for you. May I
fasten it in your hair?"
"You recite a lesson in history every day, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Have you come to the Salem-witches yet?"
"Not yet. What has my history to do with this honeysuckle?"
"When you study metaphysics and begin the chase after that
psychological fox--the-law-of-association-of-ideas, you will
understand. Meanwhile, thank your stars, dear, that you did not live
in Massachusetts some years ago, or you would certainly nave gone to
heaven in the shape of smoke. How you stare, you white owl! As if you
thought St. Vitus had rented my tongue for a dancing-saloon. It is
all because the Bishop is coming. My blessed Bishop! Yes, put the
handsomest spray in my hair, and then, if you make me look young and
very pretty, you may do as you like with the others."
Still kneeling, she inclined her head, while Regina twisted the
wreath around the coil of neatly braided hair. Then, kissing the girl
lightly on her cheek, Mrs. Lindsay closed the drawer and rose.
Drawing a silver cup from her pocket, Regina filled it with water,
placed it close to the mirror, and proceeded to arrange the violets
and honeysuckle. Stepping back to inspect the effect, she folded her
hands and smiled.
"Mrs. Lindsay, tell him I gathered them for him, because he was kind
to me when I came here a stranger, and I wish to thank him. When he
is at home it seems always summer-time, don't you think so?"
The mother's eyes filled, and, laying a hand on the girl's head, she
answered:
"Yes, dear, he is my sunshine, and my summer-time."
"How long will he stay with us?"
"He could not say positively when his last letter was written, but I
hope to keep him several months. You know it is possible he may be
forced to go to England, in order to complete some of his studies
before--oh, Regina! could we bear to have two oceans swelling between
our Bishop and us?"
"Why, then, will you let him go?"
"Can I help it?"
"You are his mother, and he would never disobey you."
"But he is a man, and I cannot tie him to my apron strings as I do my
bunch of keys. I must not stand in the way, and prevent him from
doing his duty."
"I suppose I don't yet know everything about such matters, but I
should think it was his duty first to please you. How devoted he is
to 'duty'? It must be horrible to leave all one loves, and go out to
India among the heathens."
"Pray, what do you know about the heathens?" said a manly voice, and
instantly two strong arms gathered the pair in a cordial embrace.
"My son! You stole a march upon me! Oh, Douglass, I never was half so
glad to see you as now!"
"If you do not stop crying, I shall feel tempted to doubt you. Tears
are so unusual in your eyes that I shall be disposed to regard your
welcome as equivocal."
He kissed her on cheek and lips, and added:
"Regina, can't you contrive to say you are a little glad to see me?"
There was no reply, and, turning to look for her, he found she had
vanished.
"Queer little thing, she has gone without a word, though she insisted
on dressing her silver cup with those flowers, which she thought
would suggest to you her gratitude for your numerous little acts of
kindness. Have you seen your uncle?"
"Yes, mother, I stopped a few moments at the church, where he is
engaged with one of the committee. Uncle Peyton is not looking well.
Has he been sick?"
"He has suffered a good deal with his throat since you left us, and
now and then I notice he coughs. He is overworked, and now that you
can fill his pulpit he will have an opportunity to rest. Oh, my son!
in every respect your visit is a blessing."
Leaning her head on his breast, she looked up with proud and almost
adoring tenderness, and, drawing his face down to hers, held it
close, kissing him with that intense clinging fervour which only
mother-love kindles.
"Does my little mother know that she is spoiling her boy by inches;
making a nursery darling, instead of a hardy soldier of him? You are
weaving silken bonds to fasten me more securely here, when you ought
rather to aid me in snapping the fetters of affection, habit, and
association. Come, be so good as to brush the dust out of my hair,
while you tell me everything about everybody, which you have failed
to write during these long months of absence."
For some time they talked of family matters, of occurrences in V----,
of some invidious and unkind remarks, some caustic personal
criticisms upon the pastor's household affairs, which had emanated
from Mrs. Prudence Potter, a widowed member of the congregation, who
had once rashly dreamed of presiding over the clerical hearth as Mrs.
Peyton Hargrove, and having failed to possess her kingdom had become
a merciless spy upon all that happened in the forbidden realm.
"Poor Mrs. Prue! what a warfare exists between her name and her
character. She should petition the legislature to allow her to be
called--Mrs. Echidna! My son, I think modern civilization will remain
incomplete, will not perform its mission, until it relieves society
from the depredations of these scorpions, by colonizing them where
they will expend their poison without dangerous results. If sting
they must, let it be among themselves. If I were lunatic enough to
desire to vote, I should spend my franchise in favour of a 'Gossip
Reservation'--somewhere close to the Great Western Desert, to which
the disappointed widows, spiteful old maids, and snarling dyspeptic
bachelors of this much-suffering generation should be relegated for
domiciliation and reform. Freedom serves America much as Æsop's stork
did the frogs: we are appallingly free to be devoured by envy,
stabbed by calumny, strangled by slander. I believe if I were a
painter, and desired to portray Cleopatra's death, I would assuredly
give to the asp the baleful features and sneering smirk of Mrs.
Prudence. Every Sunday when she twists those two curls on her
forehead till they lift themselves like horns, puts up her
eye-glasses and pays her respects to our pew, I catch myself
whispering '_Cerastes!_' and wishing that I were only the _camera_
of a photographer."
"Take care, mother! would you accept a homestead in your contemplated
'Reservation'?"
She pinched his ear.
"Don't presume, sir, to preach to me. Really, I often wonder how
Peyton can force himself to smile and parry the vinegar cruets that
woman throws at him in the shape of observations upon the 'rapid
decline of evangelical piety,' and the 'sadly backslidden nature' of
the clergy."
"Because he is the very best man in the world, and faithfully
practises what he preaches--Christian charity. What is Mrs. Pru's
latest grievance?"
"That Peyton does not admit her to his confidence, and supply her
with all the particulars of Regina's history and family, which he
withholds even from you and me, and about which we should never dream
of catechizing him. In a better cause, her bold effrontery would be
sublime. Fortunately she was absent in Vermont for some months after
the child came, and curiosity had subsided into indifference until
she returned,--when lo! a geyser of righteous anxiety and suspicion
boiled up in the congregation, and wellnigh scalded us. What do you
suppose she blandly asked me one day, in the child's presence? 'Were
not Mr. Hargrove's friends mistaken in believing he had never
married?' Now I contend that the law of the land should indict for
just such cruel and wicked innuendoes, because these social crimes
that the statutes do not reach work almost as much mischief and
misery as those offences against public peace which the laws declare
penal. I confess Mrs. Potter is my _bête-noire_, and I feel as no
doubt Paul did when he wrote to Timothy: 'Alexander the coppersmith
did me much evil; the Lord reward him according to his works.'"
"Mother, what reply did you make to her? I can imagine you towering
like Mrs. Siddons."
"You may be sure I unmasked a battery. I looked straight into her
little faded grey eyes, which straggle away from each other as if
ashamed of their mutual ferret experiences,--for you know one looks
out so, and one turns always up,--and I answered, that my brother had
been exceedingly fortunate, as, notwithstanding the numerous
matrimonial nets adroitly spread for him, he had escaped, like the
Psalmist, 'as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers,' and fled for
safety unto the mountain of celibacy. Bishop, if the new school of
science lack the link that binds us to the ophidian type, I can
furnish a thoroughly 'developed' specimen of an 'evolved' Melusina;
for Mrs. Pru's ancestors must have been not very remotely,
cobra-capellos. Such a chronic blister as she is keeps up more
inflammation in a church than all the theology at Andover can cool.
As for general society here in V----, she damages it more than all
the three hundred foxes of Samson did the corn-fields, vineyards,
and olives of the Philistines. What are you laughing at?"
"The ludicrous dismay that will seize you when the constablery of
your progressive civilization notify you that you must emigrate to
the Gossip and Slander Reservation. Poor Mrs. Prudence Potter! from
my earliest recollection she has been practising archery upon the
target of her neighbours' characters, and she seeks social martyrdom
as diligently as Sir Galahad hunted the Sangreal. In the form of
ostracism, I think she is certainly reaping her reward. Mother, let
her rest."
"With all my heart! ''tis a consummation devoutly to be wished;' but
that is just the last thing she proposes, until the muscles of her
tongue and eyes are paralyzed. Rest indeed! Did you ever see a hyena
caged in a menagerie? Did you ever know it to rest for an instant
from its snarling, snapping, grinning round? My son, I would not for
my right hand malign or injure her, but how can I sincerely indulge
charitable reflections concerning a person who has so persistently
persecuted your uncle?"
"Then, dear little mother, do not think of her at all. Be assured her
ill-natured shafts will fall as blunt and harmless upon the noble
well-tried armour of my uncle's Christian character, as a bombardment
of cambric needles against the fortress of Cronstadt. How rapidly
Regina has grown, since she came among us? Her complexion is perfect.
Is she the same straightforward, guileless child I left her?"
"Unchanged except in the rapid expansion of her mind, which develops
surprisingly. She is the most mature child I have ever met, and I
presume it is attributable to the fact that she has never been thrown
with children, and having always associated with older persons, has
insensibly imbibed their staid thoughts, and adopted their quiet
ways. I should not be more astonished to see my prim puritanical
grandmother yonder step down from the frame, and turn a somersault on
the carpet, or indulge in leap-frog, than to find Regina guilty of
any boisterous hoidenish behaviour, or unrefined, undignified
language. If she had been born on the _Mayflower_, raised on Plymouth
Rock, and fed three times a day on the 'Blue Laws' of Connecticut,
she could not possibly have proved a more eminently 'proper' child.
Even Hannah, who you may recollect was so surly, harsh, and
suspicious when she first came here, and who really has as little
cordiality or enthusiasm in her nature as a gridiron or a
rolling-pin, seems now to be completely devoted to her; as nearly
infatuated as one of her flinty temperament can be,--and who conquers
old Hannah's heart--you will admit--must be wellnigh perfect."
"Does my uncle continue to teach her?"
"Yes, and I think it is one of his greatest pleasures. She is
ambitious and studious, and Peyton is never too weary to explain
whatever puzzles her. She is exceedingly fond of him, and he said
last week that she was his 'Jabez;' he had received her so
reluctantly, and she proved such a comfort and blessing?"
"I presume her mother writes to her occasionally?"
"Regularly every fortnight she receives a letter. Sometimes for days
after Regina looks perplexed and sorrowful, but she never divulges
the contents. Once, about two months ago, I found her lying on the
rug in her own room, with her face in her hands, and her mother's
last letter beside her. I asked if she had received any bad news, for
I knew she was crying in her quiet way, and she looked up, and said
in a tone that was really piteous: 'There is nothing new. It is
always the same old thing!--she does not know yet when she can come,
and I must be good and patient. Oh, Mrs. Lindsay! I am so hungry to
see my mother! When I look at her picture, I feel as if I would be
willing to die if I could only kiss her, and hear her say once more,
"My baby! My darling!" Last night I dreamed she took me in her arms
and hugged me tight, and looked at me as she used to do when she came
to the convent, and said, "Papa's own baby! Papa's poor stray lamb!"
Mrs. Lindsay, when I waked I had the pillow in my arms, and was
kissing it.' Now, Douglass, it is a great mystery how a mother could
voluntarily separate herself from such a child as Regina. I asked her
to show me the picture, and she cried a good deal, and said: 'I have
often wished to show it to you, but she says I must let no one see
it. Oh! she is so beautiful! Lovelier than the Madonnas in the
Chapels; only she always has tears in her eyes. I never saw her when
she did not weep. Mrs. Lindsay, help me to be good, teach me to be
smart in everything, that I may be some comfort to my mother.' The
saddest feature in the whole affair is, that Regina begins to suspect
there is some discreditable mystery about her mother and herself; but
Peyton says it is marvellous how delicately she treats the subject.
She came home one day from Sunday school and told him that Mrs.
Prudence asked her in the presence, of her class how her mother could
afford to dress her in such costly clothes; and whether she had ever
seen her father? Peyton wished to know what reply she made, and she
said her answer was: 'Mrs. Potter, if I were you and you were Regina
Orme, I think I would have my tongue cut out, before it should ask
you such questions.' Then Peyton told me she looked at him as if she
were reading his secret soul, and added; 'It is hard not to
understand everything, but I will be patient, for mother writes that
some day I shall know all; and no matter what people say--no matter
how strange things may seem--I will believe in my mother, as I
believe in God!' Most girls of her age would be curious to discover
what is concealed from her, but although your uncle thinks she is
uncertain whether her father be living or dead, she carefully shuns
all reference to the subject. There is the doorbell! Hannah will let
somebody in before I can fly down and tell her to excuse me. How
stupid of people not to know that my Bishop has come! Oh dear! it is
Mrs. Cartney, and she has come for the aprons I promised to make for
the Asylum children, and they have not been touched! Yes, Hannah, I
am coming. Why didn't you say I was engaged with my son?"
She disappeared, and after awhile Douglass Lindsay went down to the
library, and thence through the door opening upon two steps that led
into the garden.
It was one of those rare golden-aired days that sometimes break over
the bleak brows of brawling March in sunny prophecy of yet distant
summer; windless days, when rime and haze are equally unknown, and
tender fingers of the timid spring, lifting the shrouding sod,
advance tendril and leaf and bud as heralds of the annual
resurrection. Double daffodils stood erect and conspicuous like
commissioned officers along the line of yellow jonquils that bordered
the walks, and snowy narcissus and purple and rose hyacinths made a
fragrant mosaic over which the brown bees swung, and hummed their
ceaseless hymn--_laborare est orare_. Following the winding path that
led to the palings which shut out the poultry realm, the young
minister leaned against the gate, overshadowed by a tall lilac, and
looked across at the feathered folk, of which from boyhood he had
been particularly fond.
In the centre of the enclosure was a handsome pigeon-house, circular
in form, and easily accessible by a flight of steps, while upon the
top of a cupola that sprung from the roof was built a small but
prettily painted martin's home, in the quaint shape of the ark as we
find it in Scriptural illustrations. Throughout the length and
breadth of the Continent, probably no other mere _amateur_ fowl
fancier possessed such a collection as Mr. Hargrove had patiently and
gradually gathered from various sources. The peculiarity consisted in
the whiteness of the fowls;--turkeys, guineas, geese, ducks, English
Pile, Leghorn, Brahma chickens all spotlessly pure, while the pigeons
resembling drifting snow-flakes,--and the pheasants gleamed like
silver.
Upon one of the steps of the columbary sat Regina, with a basket of
mixed grain by her side, and in her lap a pair of white rabbits which
she was feeding with celery and cabbage leaves. At her feet stood two
beautiful Chinese geese, whose golden bills now and then approached
the edge of the basket, or encroached upon the rabbits' evening meal.
The girl was bareheaded, and the fading sunshine lingered lovingly
upon the glossy hair and delicate lovely face which had lost naught
of the purity that characterized it eighteen months before, while
during that time she had grown much taller, and gave promise of
attaining unusual height and symmetry.
The dress of Marie-Louise blue merino was relieved at the throat by a
neatly crimped ruffle, and, as in days of yore, she wore the white
apron with pretty pockets, and ruffled bands passing over her
shoulders and down to the belt behind, where broad strings of linen
were looped into a bow. Her abundant hair was plaited in two long
thick braids, and passed twice around her head, forming a jet
coronal, and imparting a peculiarly classic contour.
There was in this quiet fowlyard scene something so innocent, so
peaceful, that it was inexpressibly soothing and attractive to the
man who stood beneath the lilac boughs, jaded with unremitting study,
and laden with wearying schemes of future labour. Douglass Lindsay
was only twenty-five, but the education and habits of a theological
student had stamped a degree of gravity on his handsome face, which
was doubtless enhanced by a slight yet undeniable baldness.
Closely resembling his mother, except in the brownness of his fine
eyes, his countenance lacked the magnetic warmth and merry shifting
lights that rendered hers so pleasant, yet none who looked earnestly
upon it could doubt for an instant that he would prove a stanch,
faithful, worthy ensign of that Banner of Peace, which Jesus unfurled
among the olive-girdled hills of holy Judea.
With no leprous taint of bigotry to sully his soul, blur his vision,
or cramp his sphere of action, the broad stream of Christian charity
flowed from his noble, generous heart, sweeping away obstacles that
would have impeded the usefulness of a minister less catholic in
sympathy, more hampered by creed ligaments and denominational
fetters. To an almost womanly tenderness and susceptibility regarding
the sufferings of his fellow-creatures, he united an inflexible
adherence to the dictates of justice and the rigorous promptings of
conscience; and while devoutly yielding allegiance solely to the
Triune God, to whose service he had reverently dedicated his young
life, there were times when in almost ascetic self-abnegation he
unconsciously bowed down to that stem-lipped, stony Teraph who,
under the name of "Duty," sat a cowled and shrouded idol in the
secret oratory of his unselfish heart. Are there not seasons when
even the most orthodox wonder whether the _Dii Involuti_ passed away
for ever, with the _pateræ_ and _fibulæ_ that once rendered service
in the classic shades of Chusium and Monte-pulciana?
Scholarly in tastes, neither Mr. Lindsay's habits nor inclination led
him often into the flowery mazes of fashionable society, but,
standing upon the verge of Vanity Fair, he had looked curiously down
at the feverish whirl, the gilded shams, the maddening, murderous
conflict for place,--the empty mocking pageantry of the victorious,
the sickening despair and savage irony of the legions of the
defeated; and after the roar and shout and moan of the social
maelstrom, as presented in the great city where his studies had been
pursued, it was pleasant this afternoon to watch the fluttering white
creatures that surrounded that calm beautiful child, and to listen to
the soft cooing of the innocent lovers in the dovecote above her.
Opening the latticed gate he walked toward the group, and lifting the
basket, sat down on the steps.
"Why did you not wait, and invite me to come out and inspect your
pretty pets?"
"I thought your mother could not spare you this first afternoon, she
had so much to say to you; but I am very glad you have not quite
forgotten us. Do you see how tall the China geese have grown? When
the gander stretches his neck he can touch my shoulder with his bill.
Isn't he beautiful?"
"Decidedly the handsomest gander of my acquaintance. When I went away
you were trying to find a name for him. Did you succeed?"
"Yes, I call him Alcibiades."
"Why? Do you wish to insult the memory of the great Athenian?"
"I wish to compliment him, because he was so graceful and beautiful,
and was so fond of birds he carried them about in his bosom. My
Alcibiades is so good-natured he never fights or hisses at my
pigeons, and just now one of them lighted on his back, and picked up
the barley that had fallen on his feathers. Mr. Hargrove promises me
that just as soon as I can make money enough to pay the brickmason,
he will have a large cemented basin built near the pump, where the
geese and ducks can swim about every day."
"How do you propose to make money?" asked Douglass, lifting one of
the rabbits into his lap, and offering it a crisp morsel of celery.
"Don't you know that I sell the eggs? Those of the white guineas
bring three dollars a dozen, and I could sell more of the white
turkeys, at the same price, than we can spare. Our new pigeon palace
was paid for entirely out of the poultry money."
"Who keeps the poultry book? Have you at last learned to multiply
fractions?"
She looked up, smiling into his laughing eyes.
"Mr. Lindsay, I am not so stupid as when you tried so hard to explain
that sum to me. I keep the account, and your uncle examines it once a
week. He says it will teach me to be accurate in my figures."
"What did you pay for your rabbits? I have a pair of Angolas for you,
but the man from whom I bought them advised me not to remove them
until all danger of cold weather had passed, as they are quite
young."
"Thank you, Mr. Lindsay. You are very kind to remember that I wished
for them last year. I did not buy these----"
She raised the rabbit from her apron, and rubbed her cheek against
its soft fur, then added in a lower and touching tone:
"My mother sent them to me. I can't tell how she found out that of
all things I wished most to have them, but you know, sir, that
mothers seem inspired, they always understand what is in their
children's hearts and minds, and need no telling. So I love these
more than all my pets; they are the latest message from my mother."
She held out her hand, and interpreting the expression in her superb
eyes, he placed the other rabbit in her arms, and for a moment she
pressed them close.
"I must shut them up until to-morrow, or the owls might make a supper
of them, as happened to some the Sisters kept at the convent."
She opened the door of a wired apartment beneath the pigeon-house,
where in an adjoining division the pheasants were settling upon their
perch, and carefully deposited the bouncing furry creatures on a bed
of wheat straw.
"Mr. Lindsay, the fowls are all going to roost, and you must wait
till morning to see the squabs, and broods of Brahmas and Leghorns.
They look like snowballs rolling about after their food."
As she locked up the grain, and balanced the key on her fingers, her
companion said:
"I must persuade Uncle Peyton to get some black Spanish, and a few
Poland chickens."
"Oh no! We don't want any black things; if they laid a dozen eggs a
day they could not come here. We never raise a fowl that has coloured
feathers; all our beauties must be like snow."
"I see you have converted my uncle to your pet doctrine, and before
long I suppose you will persuade him to sell his pretty bay, and buy
a white pony?"
"No, sir, I like 'Sultan' too well to care much about his colour, and
beside, Mr. Hargrove is attached to him. There is one thing we both
want very much indeed, and that is a white Ava cow. Your uncle read
me a description of those cattle last week, and said when you went to
the East he would ask you to try and send him one."
As he looked down at her perfect face, then at one of the doves that
had perched on her shoulder, and thought of treacherous swart Sepoys,
of Bengal tigers, of all the tangled work that lay before him in
Hindoostan jungles, a shadow fell over the young man's brow, and a
dull pain seemed to tighten the valves of his heart. Just then his
appointed lot in the Master's vineyard did not smile as alluringly as
the sunny slopes of Eschol; but he put aside the contrast.
"Regina, I saw Mr. Palma in New York."
"I hope he is well."
"He certainly looked so. Among other things, he asked if the art of
writing had been altogether omitted in your education. I told him I
was unacquainted with your accomplishments in that line, as I had
written you two letters which remained unanswered."
"But your mother thanked you for them in my name."
"Which was very sweet and good in my dear mother, but questionably
courteous in you. Mr. Palma sent you a present."
"He is very kind indeed, but if I am expected to write and thank him,
I would much rather not receive it."
"Do you dislike him?"
"How could I dislike my mother's best friend? I daresay he has a good
heart--of course he must have; but whenever I think of him I feel a
queer chill creep to my very finger-tips, as if the north wind blew
hard upon me, or an iceberg sailed by."
"Guess what he sent you."
"A copybook, pen, and ink?"
"He is too polished a gentleman to punish you so severely. Come and
let me show you his gift."
He led the way to the gallery at the rear of the house, and here they
found Mr. Hargrove and Mrs. Lindsay admiring a young Newfoundland
dog, which was chained to the balusters.
"Look, Regina! it is a waddling snow-bank! So round, so soft and
white! Did he come from Nova Zembla, or Hammerfest, or directly from
'Greenland's icy mountains'?"
"Mr. Palma looked all over New York and Brooklyn before he found a
pure white dog to suit him. It seems he knew Regina's fondness for
snowy pets, and this is the only Newfoundland I have ever seen who
had not even a dark hair. Mr. Palma put this handsome collar and
chain upon him, and asked me to bring him to Regina. He will be very
large when grown; now he is only a few months old."
Regina softly patted the woolly head, and her eyes glistened with
delight.
"How did Mr. Palma guess that I wanted a dog?"
"He requested me to suggest something that would please you, and I
told him that all at the parsonage were grieving over the death of
poor old Biörn. He immediately decided to send you a dog, and this is
a noble sagacious creature."
"What is his name?"
"That is left entirely to your taste; but I hope you will not go all
the way to Greece to find a title, as you did for your classic
gander."
"Then I will call him whatever Mr. Hargrove likes best."
As she spoke Regina nestled her fingers into the pastor's hand, and
he smiled down into her radiant face.
"My dear child, exercise your own preference. Have you no choice?"
"None."
"Suppose you name him 'Erl-King' in compliment to Mr. Palma?"
"I should never dare to call him that; it would seem impertinent. He
is such a splendid dog, I should like a fine, uncommon, grand name
out of some of Mr. Hargrove's learned books."
"Oh don't, Regina! It will be positively cruel to turn Peyton loose
among his folios, and invite him to afflict that innocent orphaned
brute with some dreadful seven-syllabled abomination, which he will
convince you is Arabic, or Sanscrit, classic or mediæval, Gaelic,
Finnish or Norse, but which I warn you will serve your jaws (more
elegant form--'maxillary bones') very much as an attack of mumps
would, and will torture the victim into hydrophobia. Be pitiful, and
say Teazer, Tiger, Towser, but don't throw the sublime nomenclature
of the classics literally to the dogs!"
"Now, mother, I protest against your infringement of Uncle Peyton's
accorded rights. Be quiet, please, and let him give Regina a few
historic names, from which she can select one."
Douglass passed his arm over Mrs. Lindsay's shoulder, and both
watched the eager intent face which the girl lifted to the pastor.
He took off his glasses, wiped them with the end of his coat, and,
readjusting them on his nose, addressed himself to his ward.
"There is an East Indian tradition that a divinely appointed
greyhound guards the golden herds of stars and sunbeams for the Lord
of Heaven, and collects the nourishing rain-clouds as the celestial
cows to the milking-place. That greyhound was called _Saramá_. Will
that suit you?"
She shook her head.
"The Greeks tell us of a dog which was kept in the temple of
Æsculapius at Athens, and on one occasion when a robber entered and
stole the gold and silver treasures from the altar, the dog followed
him for several days and nights, until the thief, who could neither
beat him away nor persuade him to eat meat, was captured and carried
back to Athens. Now, dear, this was a very shrewd and courageous
animal, and his name was Capparus."
"Why did not his owner change it for something handsome, after he
performed such service?"
Regina spoke dubiously, and looked down at the new pet, who wagged
his plumy tail as if to deprecate the punishment of such a title.
"When Pyrrhus died, his favourite and devoted dog refused to stir
from the body, but when it was carried out of the house he leaped
upon the bier, and finally sprang into the funeral pile, and was
burned alive with his master's remains. This exceedingly faithful
creature was Astus."
"Mr. Hargrove, are all the classic names so ugly?"
"I am afraid the little girl's ear is not sufficiently cultivated to
appreciate them. I will try once more. The Welsh Prince Llewellyn had
a noble deerhound, whom he trusted to watch the cradle of his baby
boy while he himself was absent. One day returning home, he found the
cradle upset and empty, the clothes and the dog's mouth dripping with
blood. Concluding that the hound had devoured the child, the father
drew his sword and slew the dog, but a moment after the cry of the
babe from behind the cradle showed him his boy was alive. Looking
around, the prince discovered the body of a huge wolf, which had
entered the house to attack and devour the child, but which had been
kept off and killed by this brave dog, who was named Gillert."
Fearing from the expression of the girl's eloquent face, that Wales
would win the game, Mrs. Lindsay exclaimed with an emphasis that made
the dog prick up his ears:
"_Gwrâch y Rhibyn_--be merciful! The poor wretch looks as if he were
ready to howl at the bare mention of such a heathen, fabulous name.
Anything would be an improvement on the Welsh--Cambyses,
Sardanapalus, are euphonic in comparison.
"Mr. Hargrove, I am much obliged to you for your goodness in telling
me so much about celebrated dogs, and if the queer names sound any
sweeter to me after I am well educated, and grow learned, I will take
one of them; but just now I believe would rather call my dog Hero."
"Regina Orme! you benighted innocent! Don't make Peyton's hair rise
with horror at your slaughter of the 'unities.' Why, my dear, Hero
was a young lady who lived in Sestos a few thousand years ago, and
was not considered a model of prudent behaviour, even then."
"Are not brave noble men called heroes? Did not Mr. Hargrove say last
week that Philo Smith was a hero, when he jumped into the mill-pond
and saved Lemuel Martin from drowning? Does not my history call
Leonidas a hero? I don't know exactly who the 'unities' are, but
until I learn more I intend to call my dog Hero. To me it seems to
mean everything I wish him to be--good, faithful, brave, grand, and I
shall call him Hero. Come along, Hero, and get some supper."