AN ARRIVAL.
I had made my confession,--for a confession I had felt it
was,--involving for my own share no small amount of carelessness, and
some little pride and self-will; all of which "little foxes" had opened
the way to the commission of actual crime in another.
It was the day after that on which my uncle and aunt had arrived at the
Point,--mild, soft, and sunny; only the September haze upon sea and sky
to tell that the lingering summer was near its end.
We sat upon the piazza,--these two dear newcomers, my sister Milly, and
I. Father off upon some business; mother in the house attending to
Norman, who had come home with a sprained wrist; the children at play
upon the beach with Mammy, and their faithful pages, Bill and Jim, in
attendance. I had stipulated, with a fanciful idea that I was making
some righteous atonement, that I should be the one to relate the sad
story of my diamond earrings; and hence no one had until now mentioned
the subject in the hearing of my uncle and aunt.
The opportunity was propitious, the audience lenient and sympathetic;
and seated on the piazza-step, with my head resting against aunt
Emily's knee, and, as the tale proceeded, her dear hand tenderly
stroking my hair and cheek, I had told the story to its minutest
particular, taking, as the sober sight of after days has shown me, more
than the necessary amount of blame upon myself.
So my uncle and aunt now said; and, while inexpressibly shocked at such
heartless wickedness in one so young as the guilty girl, they would not
allow that their "own Amy" was at all blameworthy in the matter, and
only congratulated themselves and me upon the recovery of the earrings.
My name, and the likeness I bore to the Amy Rutherford in heaven, would
have pleaded for and won me absolution in a far worse case than this;
and they at once set themselves to work to demolish my almost morbid
fancies in connection with the theft of the jewels. The very fact that
I had now told them all was a relief, and my elastic spirits at once
began to rise from the weight which had burdened them during the last
few weeks.
"So that is the hero of your tale?" said uncle Rutherford, looking
thoughtfully down upon the beach where the little ones were enjoying
themselves to the utmost, and having matters all their own way, as
usual. Jim was lying prone upon the beach, while Allie and Daisy were
industriously covering him with sand; Bill assisting by filling their
pails for them. This was a daily amusement, and never palled.
"So that is your hero?" he repeated. "And what do you mean to do with
him, Milly?" he asked, turning to my sister. "Such a fellow should have
a chance in life."
"He thinks he has it since he has been here," answered Milly; "since he
has been among respectable people and surroundings, provided and cared
for, and taught. He and Bill both talk as if they needed no greater
advantages than those they possess already. As to what I mean to do
with him, dear uncle,--well, it is less what I mean to do with him,
than what he means to do with himself. His own ambitions are soaring,
and quite beyond any plans that I could form for him; his aim being the
head of the government of our country, with the powers of an autocrat,
and no responsibility to any one. Nor is his mind disturbed with any
doubts that he will be able to achieve this dignity, provided that he
continues to 'have his chance.' At present he is content with learning
his duties as a house and table servant, believing those to be but
stepping-stones towards his goal."
"To say nothing of his ambitious views regarding Milly herself," I
interrupted. But my remark was ignored as unworthy of the gravity of
the subject.
"But he should have some schooling, a boy such as he is,--do not you
think so?" asked uncle Rutherford; adding, "Whatever his aims and
ambitions may be, he can achieve nothing without some education."
Milly hesitated for a moment, unwilling to make mention of all that she
was doing for Jim and his _confrère_; and I spoke for her.
"Milly is spending a goodly portion of her worldly substance in that
way," I said. "The boys go to a teacher for two hours every evening,
and are both making quite remarkable progress in the three R's; and
Bill had singing-lessons all last winter, and I believe Milly intends
that he shall continue them when we go back to the city."
"H'm'm," said uncle Rutherford. "Very good, so far as it goes; but I
mean something more thorough and far-reaching than this." And Milly's
eyes lighted, for she knew that uncle was already planning some means
of substantial advancement for her _protégé_.
"If you are going to give him any further 'chance,'" I said, "Columbia
itself will not bound his ambition. He, too, will sigh because there is
but one world for him to conquer."
"H'm'm," said uncle Rutherford again, with his eyes still fixed
thoughtfully upon the incipient candidate for presidential honors, who,
having shaken himself free from the sand, and risen to his feet, was
now tumbling rapidly over in a series of "cart-wheels;" another
performance in which the souls of our children delighted, and in which
he was an expert. But he--uncle Rutherford--said nothing more at
present; and we were all left in ignorance as to what benevolent plan
tending Jim-wise he might be pondering.
For a man otherwise so charming and considerate, uncle Rutherford had
the most exasperating way of exciting one's curiosity and interest to
the verge of distraction, and then calmly ignoring them.
But now I suddenly bethought myself of Jim's "peanut plan," which,
truth to tell, had passed entirely from my mind since the day I had
first heard of it; and, with an eye to further prepossessing uncle
Rutherford in the boy's favor, I forthwith unfolded his scheme for the
benefit of the helpless young Blairs. My uncle was amused, but, as I
could see, was pleased, too, with Jim's gratitude and appreciation of
the good which had fallen to his own lot.
"Amy," said uncle Rutherford presently,--_apropos_ of some further
allusion which was made to my tale, and to Captain Yorke's share in
it,--"Amy, I am going to invite Captain and Mrs. Yorke to visit New
York this winter, and," with a twinkle in his eye, "shall depend upon
you and Milly to escort them hither and thither to see the city lions."
"Invite them to your house?" I inquired, in not altogether approving
surprise, for the idea of Captain and Mrs. Yorke as visitors in uncle
Rutherford's house was somewhat incongruous; while the vision of Milly
and myself escorting them about was not attractive in my eyes, fond
though I was, in a certain way, of the old man and his dear motherly
wife.
"Not to my own house, no," answered uncle Rutherford, with an
assumption of gravity which by no means imposed upon me, "for I do not
expect to have any house of my own this coming winter,--or, I should
say, not to occupy my own house; for, Amy, as my boys will pass the
winter abroad, and your aunt and I would feel lonely without them, we
have been persuaded by some kind friends, with a whole houseful of
troublesome young people, to make our home with them, and help to keep
their flock in order. So Captain Yorke and----"
But he was interrupted, as I fell upon him in an ecstasy of
delight,--worthy of Allie or Daisy,--enchanted to learn that we were to
have the inexpressible pleasure of having him and aunt Emily to spend
the winter with us; a pleasure which I would willingly have earned by
any amount of ciceroneship to the old sailor and his wife. The subject
had not been mooted before the younger portion of the family, but had
been discussed and settled in private conclave among our elders; so it
was a most agreeable surprise to each one and all of us.
"But about Captain and Mrs. Yorke?" I said, at length, when my
transports had somewhat subsided, and calmness was once more restored.
"You do not really mean that you are going to bring them to the city,
and--to _our_ house?"
And all manner of domestic and social complications presented
themselves to my mind's eye, in view of such an arrangement. For uncle
Rutherford, in his far-reaching desire to benefit and make others
happy, was given to ways and plans which, at times, were too much even
for his ever-charitable, generous wife; and which now and then would
sorely try the souls of those less interested, but who, _nolens
volens_, became the victims of his benevolent schemes.
No one was better aware of uncle Rutherford's proclivities in this way,
or more in dread of them, than my young brother Norman, who had just
joined our circle, fresh from mother's surgery, and with his arm in a
sling. For Norman's bump of benevolence was not as large as that of
some other members of the family, and he was inclined to look askance
upon uncle Rutherford's demands upon his heart and his purse. These, to
tell the truth, were not infrequent; for our uncle, believing that
young people should be led to the exercise of active and unselfish
charity, and seeing that Norman was inclined to shirk such claims, was
constantly presenting them to the boy, with a view to training him in
the way he should go in such matters.
"Uncle Rutherford gives with one hand, and takes away with the other,"
Norman had said, grumblingly, only this same morning, in my hearing.
"You had better say he takes with one hand, and gives seven-fold with
the other," said Douglas, resentfully; for he inherited, to the fullest
extent, the family generosity. "Nor, I saw the skins of your flints
hanging out to dry this morning."
Whereupon Douglas dodged a book aimed at his head, and left his shot to
work what execution it might.
Norman had caught my last words, and taken in their meaning, and his
delight at the prospect of a visit from Captain Yorke was almost as
great as Milly's and mine in view of the stay of our uncle and aunt at
our home; being incited, probably, by the thought of the "jolly fun"
which he and Douglas could extract from the old man while piloting him
about the city.
"I certainly do not intend to bring the old people to your house, Amy,"
said uncle Rutherford; "but your aunt is anxious that Mrs. Yorke should
see some good physician, who may be able to relieve her from her
lameness before she is entirely crippled; and we shall therefore
propose that they come to the city after we are fairly settled there,
when we will provide comfortable quarters for them, and put Mrs. Yorke
under proper treatment. There is a fitness to all things, my child; and
Captain and Mrs. Yorke would probably feel as much embarrassed as your
guests, as we should be in having them with us."
"I was only thinking----" I began, then stopped.
"You were only thinking that your quixotic old uncle was about to
inflict a somewhat trying experience upon you," said uncle Rutherford,
in answer to the unspoken thought. "But he has a _modicum_ of sense
left yet, Amy."
Truth would not allow me to enter a disclaimer, for this had been my
very thought. Any slight embarrassment which I might have felt,
however, was relieved by a little diversion in my favor, as uncle
Rutherford said,--
"Here is Fred Winston coming over from the hotel."
"Yes, he is generally coming over, and never going back," said Norman,
with what I chose to consider a saucy glance in my direction; but I
ignored both speech and glance, as I welcomed the new-comer.
Now be it understood, that this young man was neither a gossip nor
news-monger; but, being at present a resident of the largest hotel in
the place, he was, from the force of circumstances, apt to be the
hearer of various items of interest, and these, for reasons which
seemed good to himself, he usually considered it necessary to bring
over to the homestead as soon as possible after they came to his
knowledge. Indeed, our boys basely slandered him, by crediting him with
the invention of sundry small fictions as an excuse for coming over to
our house. Nevertheless, he was always a welcome guest with each one
and all of the family, and with none more than with these saucy boys.
"Mr. Rutherford," he said now, when he had settled himself in such
comfort as he might upon the next lowest step to that on which I was
seated, and addressing himself to my uncle, who, by virtue of his
interest in, and proprietorship of, a great portion of the Point, was
regarded by most people as a sort of lord of the manor,--"Mr.
Rutherford, have you heard what has befallen Captain Yorke?"
"I have heard nothing," answered uncle Rutherford. "No misfortune, I
hope."
Mr. Winston slightly raised his eyebrows, as he answered, laughingly,
"I do not know whether he considers it in the light of a misfortune or
a blessing; but I know very well how I should feel had such an
affliction fallen to my lot,--that it was an unmitigated calamity;
while Miss Milly, again, would probably consider it as the choicest of
blessings. It seems that the old man had a reprobate son, who, many
years since, went off to parts unknown; and his parents have heard
nothing of him since,--that is, until to-day, when a woman, claiming to
be his widow, appeared with five children. She had his "marriage
lines," as she called them, a letter from the prodigal himself to his
father, and other papers, which appear to substantiate her claim; and
the old couple have admitted it, and received the whole crowd. 'Matildy
Jane' is sceptical, derisive, and _not_ amiable. Nor can one be surprised
that she is not pleased at this addition to her household cares and
labors, for I have not told the worst. The woman is apparently in the
last stages of consumption; one of the children is blind; another has
hip-disease; and a third looks as if it would go the way its mother is
going. There is a sturdy boy of fourteen or so, the eldest of the
family, and another chubby, healthy rogue, in the lot; but they really
looked like a hospital turned loose. Brayton and I had gone down for
bait, and were talking to the captain, when they arrived."
"Don't, don't, Mr. Winston!" exclaimed Norman. "Milly will adopt the
crowd, and have them here amongst us. That is her way, you know."
"And what did the captain say?" I asked, fully agreeing with Mr.
Winston, that this must be, for the old seaman, an appalling
misfortune. "Imagine, if the thing is true, and these people dependent
upon him, the utter up-turning of the even tenor of his way,--of all
their ways. I sympathize with 'Matildy Jane.' What did the captain
say?"
"He asked me to read his son's letter to him,--for he is not apt, it
would appear, in deciphering writing; and, indeed, it was more or less
hieroglyphical,--then gazed for a few moments at the dilapidated
crew,--dilapidated as to health, I mean; for they are clean and decent,
and fairly respectable looking,--and said, 'Well, ye do all seem to be
enj'yin' a powerful lot of poor health among ye.' Then he turned into
the house, saying that he must 'see what mother said,' giving neither
word of welcome nor refusal to admit the claim of the strangers; and
presently Mrs. Yorke appeared, in a state of overwhelming excitement,
and, nothing doubting, straightway fell upon the new arrivals with an
attempt to take the whole quintette into her ample embrace. No need of
proofs for her; and, seeing this, the captain's doubts were dispersed,
and he began a vigorous hand-shaking with each and every one of those
present, including Brayton and myself, and repeating the process, until
Brayton and I, feeling ourselves to be intruders in the midst of this
family scene, made good our escape. Not, however, before 'Matildy Jane'
had appeared, with tone, look, and manner, which you who know 'Matildy
Jane' do not need to have described, denouncing the woman and children
as 'ampostors,' and bidding them begone."
"And you do not think that the woman is a fraud?" asked aunt Emily.
"I do not, Mrs. Rutherford; and neither did Brayton," answered Fred
Winston. "And, besides the letter and marriage certificate which were
in her possession, making good her pretensions, she had an honest face,
and appeared respectable,--far too much so for the wife of such a
scallywag as old Yorke's son is said to have been."
"If the Yorkes allow her claim, and take in this numerous family, it
will interfere with your plans for Mrs. Yorke, uncle," I said.
"Not at all," said uncle Rutherford, who, when he had once made up his
mind to a thing, would move heaven and earth to carry it out, and who
often insisted upon benefiting people against their will. "Not at all.
The new family can be left here to keep Matilda Jane company while her
father and mother are away. There is all the more reason now that Mrs.
Yorke should be cured of her lameness; and I believe that it can be
done."
Blessed with the most sanguine of dispositions, as well as with the
kindest and most generous of hearts, he always believed, until it was
proved otherwise, that the thing he wished could be done.
"Milly," said aunt Emily, suddenly turning to my sister, "will you come
down to the Yorkes' with me?"
Milly assented readily; and the two kindred spirits set forth together.
"The blessed creatures!" said Fred Winston. "What unlimited
possibilities the arrival of this infirmary opens up to them. I knew
that they would be off at once to inquire into the condition of the
sick and wounded."
"And to find out how many candidates there may be for the hospital
cottage and other refuges," I added.
But the two good Samaritans, as they afterwards reported, were not so
appalled by the state of things at the Yorkes' cottage, as Mr.
Winston's tale had prepared them to be. Perhaps matters had improved
since he had left two hours since, or the stricken family had at once
accommodated themselves to the change in their circumstances. Certain
it is that aunt Emily and Milly found peace and serenity reigning: Mrs.
Yorke with the little cripple in her capacious lap, coddling and
petting her as the good soul well knew how to do; the captain piloting
the blind child about the house and garden, familiarizing him with
different objects, by which he might learn his own way about by his
acute sense of touch; the youngest--a teething, not consumptive,
baby--fast asleep; and even the recalcitrant "Matildy Jane" tolerably
pleasant and good-natured beneath the fascinations of a handsome,
sturdy urchin four years old, who, undaunted by her hard face and
snappish voice, insisted upon following her around, and "helping" her
in her manifold occupations. He was a boy who did not know how to be
snubbed, and had fairly won his way with his ungracious aunt, by sheer
persistence in his unwelcome attentions. To all her hospitable
intimations that he and his family had brought an immense addition to
her cares and labors,--which certainly was true,--he opposed smiles and
caresses, and assurances that so long as he was there he would share
and lighten all these; appearing to think that she complained and
scolded only to draw forth his sympathy and aid.
Who could stand out against such a fellow? Not even "Matildy Jane." And
she had succumbed; at least, so far as he was concerned.
The mother of the helpless group, pale, feeble, and careworn though she
was, had already shown herself eager to lessen, so far as possible, the
burden she had brought upon the family of her husband, and sat peeling
potatoes from a huge basket on the one side, while a pan of apples,
duly pared and quartered, stood awaiting the oven upon the other.
Plainly Matilda Jane had had no scruples of delicacy in availing
herself of the services of her newly arrived sister-in-law.
"What _are_ you going to do with them all, Captain Yorke?" asked Milly,
pityingly, as she stood beside the old sailor in the porch, while aunt
Emily interviewed Mrs. Yorke and the widow. "This is such a care for
you."
"Do with 'em?" repeated the veteran, apparently quite undismayed by the
prospect before him. "Waal, I reckon we've got to be eyes an' backs an'
lungs to 'em, for they've run mighty short of them conveniences. Let
alone Theodore, an' that feller over there,"--nodding towards the
kitchen-door, within which Matilda Jane was to be seen mixing biscuit,
with the boy beside her, his round, fat arms up to the elbows in the
dough, with which he was bedaubing himself and every thing about him,
unrestrained by his subdued aunt,--"let alone that feller over there,
there ain't the makin' of a hull one among 'em. I guess they've got to
be took care of; an', if the Almighty hadn't a meant us to do it, he
wouldn't a sent 'em here. Them's my opinions, an' me an' Mis' Yorke we
ain't the ones to throw back his orderin's an' purposin's in his face.
They do seem a bit like a hospital full, though, don't they?" he added,
unconsciously expressing Mr. Winston's view of the situation. "Me an'
Mis' Yorke, we foun' out the truth of the Scriptur' sayin', how sharper
than an achin' tooth it is to have a thankless child, an' Tom,--I don't
min' sayin' it to you,--he _was_ thankless enough, though he's dead an'
gone, an' his old father ain't the one to cast stones at him now. But
me an' Mis' Yorke, we don't want to make out the truth of that other
Scriptur', that the sins of the father shall be visited on the
children,--leastways, not Tom's children; they ain't to blame for his
short-comin's; an', meanin' no disrespec' nor onbelief, _that_ Scriptur'
do always seem to me a little hard on the children. Maybe--who
knows--them youngsters will ha' brought a blessin' with 'em; an' my
opinions is they has, when I see Mis' Yorke a cuddlin' an' croonin'
over that little hunchback. Now she's awful contented an' easy-minded
like to have somethin' to pet, for she's allers a hankerin' after
babies an' them sort of critters. We was kinder took aback, for sartain,
when Maria,--her name's Maria, Tom's widder's is,--when she come right
in with the hull crowd followin', an' John Waters' wagon, what they
come from the station in, standin' at the gate, an' all the luggage in
it; an' them gentlemen was here gettin' bait an' askin' about the
fishin', an' Matildy Jane she kinder flew out, an' one of the little
ones was hollerin',--an' it was all kinder Bedlamy. But it's all come
right now; an' Maria, she's a willin' soul, an' if Jabez," the old
man's son-in-law, and a power in the household, "if Jabez an' Charlotte
don't be grumpy over it, we'll all get along as pretty as a psalm-book.
Jabez, he an' Charlotte has gone to Millville for the day, an' all this
is unbeknownst to them."
Clearly, the captain was somewhat in dread of Jabez and Jabez's
opinions; but Milly had no fear that the strangers would be sent adrift
in deference to these.
But something must be done to help the old people with the burden which
had so suddenly fallen upon them. The gray-haired seaman was
comparatively vigorous still, but his sea-faring days were over; and
while he had put by a sum sufficient to keep him, his good wife, and
"Matildy Jane" in comfort, this unlooked for addition to the family,
helpless and crippled as the grandchildren were, would be too great a
drain upon his little fund. As this had been placed in father's hands
for investment, we knew to a fraction what he had to depend upon, and
that it was not enough to provide for all. The sturdy independence of
the captain would no doubt revolt against the idea of receiving any
actual pecuniary assistance, as would that of his wife; but some way
must be contrived of lessening their responsibilities and cares. Jabez
Strong and his wife must share these, although he might and probably
would be "grumpy;" but even then it would be hard to meet all demands,
without depriving the old couple of their accustomed comforts. The
cheerful, it-will-all-come-right spirit in which they had received the
intruders,--_I_ could not look upon them in any other light,--made us
all the more anxious to do this; and, before night, Milly and I were
exercising our brains with all manner of expedients for accomplishing
it without hurting their pride and their feelings.
Meanwhile, our elders, with less of enthusiasm perhaps, but in a more
practical spirit, were considering the same matter; and the little
ones, our Allie and Daisy, having also heard of the influx of children
at the Yorkes' cottage, had laden themselves with toys and
picture-books, and persuaded mammy to escort them thither. Our little
sisters had so burdened themselves, that they needed assistance to
transport all these gifts to Captain Yorke's house; and they could not
look for any great amount of this from mammy, who had all she could do
to convey her own portly person, and the enormous umbrella without
which she never stirred, as a possibly needed protection against sun or
rain, as the case might be. So they begged that Bill and Jim might act
as carriers, coaxing Thomas to spare them from pantry duty,--a matter
not attended with much difficulty, as the old butler was only too
willing to indulge them on all occasions, even to the length of taking
double work on his own shoulders.
They all set forth on their errand of charity in high glee; but Jim
returned from the expedition with a face and air of such portentous
gravity, so different from his usual happy-go-lucky bearing, that Milly
was moved to ask if any thing unpleasant had occurred.
"Captain Yorke nor his folks didn't do nothin', Miss Milly," answered
Jim.
"Who, then?" asked Milly.
"Well, no _one_, Miss Milly," he replied. "I was on'y thinkin' what a
lot of 'em there was, an' it bothers me."
"So many Yorkes, do you mean?" queried Milly, rather wondering at his
evident perturbation.
"Such a many blind an' hunchback an' sick folks," he said; "an' how are
they all goin' to be done for. The more you try to do for some of 'em,
the more of 'em seem to come up. There's Matty and Tony Blair, who me
an Bill has took into our keepin' soon as we get to the city; an' now
here comes a Yorke hunchback, an' a Yorke blind, an' a Yorke sick baby,
all sudden like; an' I say that's pretty hard on the ole captain. I
like the captain firstrate, I do, Miss Milly; an' I don't like to see
him put upon that way. Some of us ought to see to 'em for him, but you
can't do for all."
"No, Jim," Milly said, soothingly, to the young philanthropist, "we
cannot do for all who need; but, if each one does his or her mite, we
can among us greatly lighten the load of human suffering; and that is
what we must all try to do, without making ourselves unhappy over that
which is beyond our reach or means."
"_You_ did a mighty big mite, when you did for Bill an' me, Miss Milly,"
said her pupil and _protégé_, looking gratefully at her. "There ain't
no halfway 'bout you, Miss Milly. But I would like to help Captain
Yorke, if I could; an' I was thinkin', could I do up them sums again
'bout the peanuts, an' get out a share for the Yorkes."
Milly laughed, for she had heard of Jim's plans, and of the various
objects which were to be benefited by the "peanut-undertaking;" and, as
frequent new claims and claimants appeared to share in the profits, she
argued that the proportion of each would be small.
"Jim," she said, "I think I would not undertake to help the Yorkes as
well as all the other people you have upon your list. They shall not be
allowed to suffer, you may be sure; Mr. Rutherford and Mr. Livingstone
will see to that."
"Miss Milly," he answered, reproachfully, "I on'y didn't reckon up
Captain Yorke an' his folks before, 'cause they hadn't need of it. Now
they will, with all that raft of broke-up children on 'em; an' do you
think I'd go to passin' 'em over when they was so good to me? No, that
I wouldn't; I ain't never goin' to forget how Mis' Yorke nussed me, an'
made much of me, when I was sick there in her house; an' they were good
to me, too, when I was a little chap, an' got shipwrecked on to the
shore. Miss Milly, do you know,"--hesitatingly,--"I'd liever take some
out of the 'lection expenses share, than to pass over the Yorkes. I
would, really, Miss Milly."
Truly, our Milly was reaping a rich fruit of generosity, loyalty, and
earnest endeavor, from the seed of self-sacrifice and charity which she
herself had shown in faith and hope. And this, too, in ground which the
on-lookers had judged to be so hardened and stony that no harvest was
to be gathered therefrom. Oh, my Milly, sweet soul,
"Great feelings hath she of her own,
Which lesser souls may never know."