_A CINDER AND A SPARK._
One of the few snow-storms of the memorably mild winter of 1876 was
coming quietly down, watched with lazy interest by the passengers in a
certain train that rumbled leisurely toward the city. Without it was
cold and wintry enough, but within as hot as an oven; for, with the
usual American disregard of health, there was a roaring fire in the
stove, every ventilator shut, and only one man in the crowded car had
his window open.
Toward this reckless being many a warning or reproachful glance was cast
by rheumatic old gentlemen or delicate women who led the lives of
hot-house flowers. But the hearty young fellow sat buried in his
newspapers, regardless alike of these expressive glances and the fresh
wind that blew in an occasional snow-flake to melt upon his shoulder,
hair, or beard.
If his face had not been obscured by the great sheet held before it, an
observer might have watched with interest the varying expressions of
amusement, contempt, indignation, and disgust which passed over it as he
read; for it was a very expressive face, and too young yet to have put
on the mask men so soon learn to wear. He was evidently one of the
strong, cheery, sympathetic sort of fellows who make their way
everywhere, finding friends as they go from the simple fact that they
are so full of courage and good-will it is impossible to resist them.
This had been proved already; for during that short journey three old
ladies had claimed his services in one way or another, a shy little girl
had sat upon his knee for half an hour and left him with a kiss, and an
obstreperous Irish baby had been bribed to hold its tongue by the
various allurements he devised, to the great amusement, as well as
gratitude, of his neighbors.
Just now, however, he looked rather grim, knit his brows as he read, and
finally kicked his paper under the seat with an expression which proved
that he had as much energy as kindliness in his composition, and no
taste for the sorrowful record of scandal, dishonesty, and folly daily
offered the American public.
"Upon my word, if this sort of thing goes on much longer, the country
won't be fit for a decent man to live in," he said to himself, taking a
mouthful of fresh air, and letting his eyes wander over the faces of his
fellow-travellers as if wondering which of the eminently respectable
gentlemen about him would next startle the world by some explosion of
iniquity. Even the women did not escape the scrutiny of the keen blue
eyes, which softened, however, as they went from one possible Delilah to
another; for John Harris had not yet lost his reverence for womankind.
Suddenly his wandering glance was arrested, a look of recognition
brightened his whole countenance, and an involuntary "Hullo!" rose to
his lips, instead of the romantic "Ha, 'tis she!" with which novel
heroes are supposed to greet the advent of the charmer.
The object which wrought so swift and pleasant a change in the young
man's mood and manner was a girl's face seen in profile some seats in
front of him. A modest little hat with a sweeping feather rested easily
on a mass of wavy hair, which was not spoilt by any fashionable device,
but looped up in a loose sort of braid from which rebellious tendrils
here and there escaped to touch her white throat or shade her temples.
One particularly captivating little curl twined round her ear and seemed
to be whispering some pleasant secret, for the blooming cheek dimpled
now and then, the soft lips smiled, and the eyes were full of a dreamy
thoughtfulness. A book lay in her lap, but her own fancies seemed more
interesting, and she sat watching the snow-flakes flutter down, lost in
one of the delightful reveries girls love, quite unconscious of the
admiration of her neighbors, or the fixed stare of the young man behind
her.
"Miss Dolly, by all that's good!" he said to himself, suddenly
forgetting the sins of his native land, and finding it quite possible to
stop a little longer in it. "She said she was going to town with the old
things, and there she is, prettier than ever. If it hadn't been for
those provoking papers, I should have seen her when she got in, and
might have secured a seat by her. That stout party evidently doesn't
appreciate his advantages. I can't order him out, but I'll watch my
chance, for I really ought to apologize for my stupidity yesterday.
Wonder if she has forgotten all about it?"
And John fell into a reverie likewise, for he was in just the mood to
enjoy any thing so innocent and fresh and sweet as the memory of little
Dolly at her spinning-wheel. It all came back to him with a redoubled
charm, for there was a home-like warmth and simplicity about it that
made the recollection very pleasant to a solitary fellow knocking about
the world with no ties of any sort to keep him safe and steady. He felt
the need of them, and was all ready to give away his honest heart, if he
could find any amiable creature who could be satisfied with that alone,
for he had nothing else to offer. He was rather fastidious, however,
having an artist's refined taste in the matter of beauty, and a manly
man's love of the womanliness which shows itself in character, not
clothes. But he had few opportunities to discover his ideal woman, and
no desire to worship a fashion plate, so here was an excellent heart to
let, and no one knew it, unless they had the skill to read the notice in
the window.
The reveries of both young people were rudely disturbed by the "stout
party," who having finished his paper, and taken a comprehensive survey
of his thoughtful little neighbor, suddenly began to talk as if he did
"appreciate his advantages," and meant to make the most of them.
John watched this performance with deep interest, and it soon became
rather exciting; for Miss Dolly's face was a tell-tale, and plainly
betrayed the rapid transitions of feeling through which she passed. The
respectful attention she at first gave in deference to the age of the
speaker changed to surprise, then to annoyance, lastly to girlish
confusion and distress; for the old gentleman was evidently of the
Pecksniffian order, and took advantage of his gray hairs to harass the
pretty damsel with his heavy gallantry.
Poor Miss Dolly looked vainly about her for any means of escape, but
every seat was full, and she was quite unconscious that an irate young
man behind her was burning to rush to the rescue if he had only known
how. As no way appeared, John was forced to content himself with
directing such fiery glances at the broad back of the ancient beau it
was a wonder they did not act like burning-glasses and set that expanse
of broadcloth in a blaze.
A crisis soon arrived, and woman's wit turned the tables capitally; for
when the old gentleman confiscated her book under pretence of looking at
it, and then, laying his arm over the back of the seat, went on talking
with a fat smile that exasperated her beyond endurance, Dolly gave him
one indignant glance and opened her window, letting in a blast of cold
air that made her tormentor start and shiver as if she had boxed his
ears.
"Good! if that does not rout the enemy, I'm much mistaken," said John to
himself, enjoying it all with the relish of a young man who sees an old
one usurping his privileges.
The enemy was not routed, but his guns were silenced; for, having
expostulated with paternal solicitude, he turned up his coat-collar and
retired behind his paper, evidently much disgusted at finding that two
could play at the game of annoyance, though the girl had to call the
elements to her aid.
"If I dared, I'd offer to change seats with him; not because he is
suffering agonies at the idea of getting tic-douloureux or a stiff neck,
that would only serve him right, but because _she_ will get the worst of
it. There, she has already! Confound that cinder! why didn't it go into
his eye instead of hers?" added John, as he saw the girl shrink
suddenly, and begin to wink and rub her eye with distressful haste,
while the "stout party" took advantage of the mishap to close the window
with an expression of vengeful satisfaction on his rubicund visage. He
offered no help, for his first rebuff still rankled in his memory, but
placidly twirled his thumbs, with a sidelong glance now and then at his
companion, who, finding all her winking and rubbing in vain, shrouded
her face in a veil, and sat a pathetic picture of beauty in distress,
with an occasional tear rolling over her cheek and her dear little nose
reddening rapidly with the general inflammation caused by that fatal
cinder.
This affecting spectacle was too much for John, who not only felt the
chivalrous desire of a man to help the gentle sex, but remembered that
he owed the girl a good turn for her hospitality the day before, not to
mention the apology he quite burned to make. Knowing that the train
would soon stop a few minutes for the passengers to lunch, he resolved
then and there to cast himself into the breach and deliver the doubly
afflicted damsel at all costs.
Happily the station was reached before any great damage was done to the
girl's features, or the young man's impatience became uncontrollable.
The instant the stout gentleman rose to seek refreshment John dived for
his valise, and, cleaving his way through the crowded aisle, presented
himself beside the empty place, asking, with an attempt to look and
speak like a stranger, which would not have deceived Dolly a bit, had
she not been half-blind, "Is this seat engaged, madam?"
"No, sir," she answered, unveiling to discover what new affliction fate
had sent her.
It was delightful to see the one wistful eye light up with a look of
recognition, the one visible cheek flush with pleasure, and the lips
smile as they added, with the impulsive frankness of a tormented girl,
"Oh, please take it quickly, or that dreadful man will come back!"
Quite satisfied with his welcome, John slipped into the coveted place,
resolving to keep it in spite of a dozen stout gentlemen.
"Thanks, now what else can I do for you?" he asked, with such an evident
desire to lend a hand somewhere that it was impossible to decline his
services.
"_Could_ you take this thing out of my eye? It hurts dreadfully, and I
shall be a spectacle by the time I get to Aunt Maria's," answered Dolly,
with a little moan that rent the hearer's susceptible heart.
"That is just what I want to do, and you may trust me; for I've been a
great traveller, and have had much experience in the extraction of
cinders," said John, adding, as he produced a pencil in a capable sort
of way, "now open your eye wide, and we'll have it out in a jiffy."
Dolly obeyed with a courage and confidence most flattering, and John
peered into the suffering eye with an intensity which it was impossible
for the most artful cinder to escape.
"I see it!" he cried, and turning back the lid over his pencil he
delicately removed the black atom with a corner of Dolly's veil.
It was all over in an instant, and both displayed great nerve and
coolness during the operation; but, as soon as it was done, Dolly
retired into her handkerchief, and John found himself as flushed and
breathless as if he had faced some great danger, instead of merely
looking into a girl's eye. Ah! but it was a very eloquent eye in spite
of the cinder,--large and soft, tearful and imploring, and the instant
during which he had bent to examine it had been a most exciting one; for
the half-open lips were so near his own their hurried breath fanned his
cheek, the inquisitive little curl tumbled over her ear to touch his
wrist as he held up the eyelid, and a small hand had unconsciously
clutched softly at his arm during the inspection. Bless you! the famous
scene between Uncle Toby and the Widow Wadman was entirely surpassed on
this occasion, because the actors were both young and neither artful.
"Such relief!" sighed Dolly, emerging from a brief retirement, with a
face so full of gratitude that it was like a burst of sunshine after an
eclipse.
"Let me see if it is all right;" and John could not resist another look
into the clear depths through which he seemed to catch delicious
glimpses of an innocent young heart before maiden modesty drew the
curtain and shut him out. As the long lashes fell, a sudden color in her
cheeks seemed to be reflected upon his, and with a hasty,--
"It is a good deal inflamed, so I'm going to prescribe a wet bandage for
a few minutes, if you can spare your handkerchief,"--he hurried away to
the water tank near by.
"That's very comforting. Thank you so much!" and Dolly patted her
invalid eye assiduously; while John, feeling that he had earned his
place, planted his valise on the seat with a defiant glance over his
shoulder, then turned to Dolly, saying, "You must have some lunch," and
waiting for no denial dashed out of the car as if on an errand of life
and death.
He was gone but a moment or two; but in that time Dolly had smoothed her
hair, retied her hat, whisked a nicer pair of gloves out of her pocket,
and taken a rapid survey of herself in a tiny glass concealed from other
eyes in the recesses of her bag. She had just time to close and cast the
aforesaid bag recklessly upon the floor as her knight came up, bearing a
cup of tea and a block of cake, saying in the pleasantly protecting way
all women like,--
"Dr. Harris prescribes refreshment after the operation, and this is the
best he can find. Your aged admirer was at the counter, eating against
time and defying apoplexy," he added with a laugh, as Dolly gratefully
sipped the tea, which, by the way, was as weak as that made at the
famous Boston tea-party, when, as every one knows, water was liberally
used.
"You saw him, then, when he was plaguing me?"
"I did, and longed to throw him out of the window."
"Thanks. Did you recognize me before you spoke?"
"Of course I did, and wanted to approach, but didn't dare till the
cinder gave me an excuse."
"The idea of being afraid of _me_!"
"How could I help being afraid, when you told me Miss Dolly was
'awful'?" asked John, twinkling with fun, as he sat on the arm of a seat
sociably eating a sandwich, which under other circumstances would have
struck him as being a remarkable combination of sawdust and
sole-leather.
Before Dolly could reply except by a guilty blush, a bell rang, and John
hurried away with the empty cup.
A moment or two later the stout gentleman appeared, wiping his mouth,
evidently feeling in a better humor, and ready to make up with his
pretty neighbor. Smiling blandly, he was about to remove the valise,
when Miss Dolly laid her hand upon it, saying with great dignity, "This
seat is engaged, sir. There are plenty of others now, and I wish this
for my friend."
Here John, who was just behind, seeing his prize in danger, gave a
gentle shove to several intervening fellow-beings, who in turn propelled
the "stout party" past the disputed place, which the young man took with
an air of entire satisfaction, and a hearty "Thank you!" which told
Dolly he had overheard her little speech.
She colored beautifully, but said with grateful frankness,--
"It wasn't a fib: a friend in need is a friend indeed, and in return for
the cinder I'm glad to give you a seat."
"Blessed be the cinder, then!" murmured John, feeling at peace with all
mankind. Then taking advantage of the propitious moment, he added in a
penitential tone,--
"I want to apologize for my stupidity and unintentional rudeness
yesterday."
"About what?" asked Dolly, innocently, though her eyes began to sparkle
with amusement.
"Why, taking it into my head that Miss Hill must be oldish, and going on
in that absurd way about spinsters."
"Well, I _am_ a spinster, and not so young as I have been. _I_ ought to
apologize for not telling you who I was; but it was so very funny to
hear you go on in that sober way to my face, I couldn't spoil it," said
the girl, with a look that upset John's repentant gravity; and they
laughed together as only the young and happy can.
"It is very good of you to take it so kindly, but I assure you it
weighed upon my conscience, and it is a great relief to beg pardon," he
said, feeling as if they had been friends for years.
"Have you been sketching old things ever since?" asked Dolly, changing
the conversation with womanly tact.
"Yes: I went to several places further on, but didn't find any thing
half so good as your chair and tankard. I suppose you are taking the
relics to town now?"
"All but one."
"Which is that?"
"The pumpkin hood. It is the only thing my step-mother admires among my
treasures, and she would not give it up. You rather admired it, didn't
you?" asked Dolly, with her demurest air.
"I deserve to be laughed at for my panic," answered John, owning up
manfully; then pulled out his sketch-book, with an eye to business even
in the middle of a joke.
"See here! I tried to get that venerable hood into my sketch, but
couldn't quite hit it. Perhaps you can help me."
"Let me see them all," said Dolly, taking possession of the book with a
most flattering air of interest.
"Nothing there but queer or famous things, all a hundred years old at
least," began John, quite forgetting his stolen sketch of a pretty girl
cleaning a snuffer-tray, which he had worked up with great care the
night before. Perhaps this made the book open at that particular page,
for, as the words left his lips, Dolly's eyes fell on her own figure,
too well done to be mistaken, even if the artist's face had not betrayed
him.
"What 'queer' or 'famous' _old_ person of the last century is that,
please?" she asked, holding it off, and looking at it through her hand,
while her lips broke into a smile in spite of her efforts to look
unconscious.
Knowing that a pretty woman will easily forgive a liberty of that sort,
John got out of the scrape handsomely by answering with mock gravity,--
"Oh, that's Madam Hancock, when a girl. Did you never see the famous
portrait at Portsmouth?"
"No. The dress is rather modern, and not quite in keeping with the
antique chair she is sitting in," observed the girl, critically.
"That's to be added later. I have to work up things, you know,--a face
here, a costume there, and so on: all artists do."
"So I see. There's the hood; but it wants a cape," and Dolly turned the
leaf, as much amused at his quickness as flattered by his compliment.
There were not many sketches as yet, but she admired them all, and, when
the book was shut, chatted on about antiquities, feeling quite friendly
and comfortable; for there was respect, as well as admiration, in the
honest blue eyes, and the young man did not offend as the old one had
done.
"As you are interested in curiosities, perhaps you may like to see some
that I have here in my bag. I am very fond and proud of them, because
they are genuine, and have histories of old times attached to them," she
said presently.
"I shall feel much honored by being allowed to look at them," replied
the artist, remembering that "people used to laugh at poor Miss Dolly
and her 'duds.'"
"This little pin, made of two hearts in diamonds and rubies, with a
crown above, used to be worn by my mother's great aunt, Madam Hancock.
She was a Quincy, you know. And this long garnet buckle fastened the
Governor's stock," began Dolly, displaying her store with a gentle pride
pleasant to see.
"Most interesting! but I can't help feeling grateful that this J. H.
doesn't have to wear a stock requiring a foot-long buckle like that,"
answered John, picturing himself in the costume of the past century, and
wondering if it would suit his manly face and figure.
"Now don't laugh at this relic, for it is very curious, though _you_
won't appreciate it as a woman would;" and Dolly unfolded an
old-fashioned housewife of red velvet, lined with faded yellow damask.
"That was made by my dear mother out of a bit of the velvet lining of
the Governor's state-coach, and the coverlet that a French Comte tore
with his spurs."
"Come, that sounds well! I appreciate coaches and spurs, if I'm not up
to brooches and needle-books. Tell the story, please," besought John,
who found it the most delightful thing in the world to sit there,
following the pretty motions of the small hands, the changeful
expression of the winsome face, and enjoying the companionship of the
confiding creature beside him.
"Well, you see, when Madam married Captain Scott many of the Governor's
things were taken from her, among them the state-coach. By the way, it
is said to be in existence now, stored away in somebody's barn down in
Portland. You had better go and sketch it," began Dolly, smoothing out
the old housewife, and evidently glad to tell the little story of the
ancestress whom she was said to resemble, though she modestly refrained
from mentioning a fact of which she was immensely proud.
"I will!" and John soberly made a memorandum to visit the ancient coach.
"When my great-great aunt was told she must give up the carriage, she
ripped out the new velvet lining, which had been put in at her expense,
and gave the bits to her various nieces. Mother made a spencer of hers,
and when it was worn out kept enough for this needle-book. The lining is
a scrap of the yellow damask counterpane that was on the bed in which
the Frenchman should have slept when he came with Lafayette to visit
Madam, only he was so tipsy he laid on the outside, and tore the fine
cover with his spurs. There's a nice Comte for you!"
"I'd like to see the spurs, nevertheless. Any more treasures?" and John
peered into the bag, as if he thirsted for more antiquarian knowledge.
"Only one, and this is the most valuable of all. Stoop down and look:
I'm afraid I may be robbed, if I display my things carelessly."
John obediently bent till the sweeping feather of her hat touched his
cheek, to the great annoyance of the banished peri, who viewed these
pleasant passages from afar with much disfavor.
"This is said to be Madam's wedding ring. I like to think so, and am
very proud to be named for her, because she was a good woman as well as
a"--
"Beauty," put in John, as the speaker paused to open a faded case in
which lay a little ring of reddish gold.
"I was going to say--as well as a brave one; for I need courage," added
the girl, surveying the old-fashioned trinket with such a sober face
that the young man refrained from alluding to the remarkable coincidence
of another John and Dolly looking at the wedding ring together.
She seemed to have forgotten all about her companion for a moment, and
be busy with her own thoughts, as she put away her treasures with a care
which made it a pleasure to watch her tie knots, adjust covers, repack
her little bag, and finally fold her hands over it, saying gravely,--
"I love to think about those times; for it seems as if people were
better then,--the men more honest, the women more womanly, and every
thing simpler and truer than now. Does it ever seem so to you?"
"Indeed it does; for this very day, as I read the papers, I got quite
low-spirited, thinking what a shameful state things have got into. Money
seems to be the one idea, and men are ready to sell their souls for it,"
answered John, as soberly as she.
"Money is a good thing to have, though;" and Dolly gave a little sigh,
as she drew her scarf over the worn edges of her jacket.
"So it is!" echoed John, with the hearty acquiescence of a man who had
felt the need of it.
"My name and these old treasures are all my fortune, and I used to be
contented with it; but I'm not now, dependence is so hateful!" added the
girl, impulsively; then bit her lip, as if the words had escaped in
spite of her.
"And this is all mine," said John, twirling the pencil which he still
held; giving confidence for confidence, and glad to do it, if it made
them better friends, for he pitied little Miss Dolly, suspecting what
was true, that her home was not a happy one.
She thanked him mutely for the kind look he gave her, and said
prettily,--
"Skill is money; and it must be a very pleasant life to go about drawing
beautiful or curious things."
"So it is sometimes,--yesterday, for instance," he answered, laughing.
"_I_ have no modern accomplishments to earn a living by. Mine are all
old-fashioned; and no one cares for such nowadays, except in servants. I
may be very glad of them, though; for playing lady doesn't seem half so
honest as going out to service, when one has nothing but an empty pair
of hands," she said with a wistful yet courageous look at the wintry
world outside, which made her companion feel a strong desire to counsel
and protect this confiding young Columbus, who knew so little of the
perils which would beset her voyage in search of a woman's El Dorado.
"Come to me for a recommendation before you try it. I can vouch for your
cooking, you know. But I'd advise you to play lady till you discover a
good safe place. I don't believe you'll find it hard, for the world is
likely to be very kind to such as you," he answered, so cheerily that
she brightened like a flower to which a stray sunbeam is very welcome.
A shrill whistle announced that the journey was over, and everybody
began at once to fuss and fumble. John got up to take his valise from
the rack, and Dolly began to struggle into her rubbers. She was still
bending down to do this, with as little damage as possible to her best
gloves, when she heard a sounding slap and a hearty voice cry out,--
"Hullo, John!" then add in a lower tone, "So there _is_ a Mrs. Harris,
you sly dog, you?"
"Hush! there isn't. How are you, George?" returned another voice,
beginning in a hurried whisper and ending in an unnecessarily loud
salutation.
What happened for a minute or two after that Dolly did not know; for the
rubbers proved so refractory that she only rose from the encounter
flushed and hurried, as the train entered the station.
"Let me make myself useful in looking after your baggage," said her
self-constituted escort, handing her out with great respect and care.
"Thank you: all my things come by express, so I've nothing to do but get
into a carriage."
"Then allow me to see you safely there, for the sake of the treasures,
if nothing else;" and John led her away, utterly ignoring the presence
of "George," who stood looking after them, with a face full of
good-humored interest and amusement.
"I'm very much obliged. Good-by," said Dolly, from the coach window.
"Not good-by: I'm coming to the fair, you know," answered John,
lingering at the door as if loath to lose sight of his little friend.
"I forgot all about it!"
"I didn't; for I depend on the cakes and ale and all the other good
things promised me."
"You will find them there," with a smile, and then a sudden blush as she
remembered that he had not only agreed to speak to "Miss Dolly," but to
"win her old heart."
He remembered also, and laughed as he bowed with the same audacious look
he had worn when he made that rash vow.
"I wonder if he _will_ come?" thought the girl, as she drove away.
"As if _I_ should forget!" said John to himself, as he trudged through
the snow, quite regardless of his waiting friend; for from the little
cinder had been kindled a spark of the divine fire that moves one of the
great engines which transport mankind all the world over.