_THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE._
Unfortunately for these deluded young persons, their month of bliss
turned out to be the most tempestuous one they had ever passed; for,
before the first week was over, some malignant imp inspired Aunt Maria
to spy, from a certain end window which commanded a corner of the park,
the lingering adieux of the lovers, and then it was all up with them.
A single stormy debate, during which John manfully claimed his Dolly,
she stoutly defended her right to love whom she chose, and Aunt Maria
thundered and lightened unavailingly, resulted in the banishment of the
claimant, the strict seclusion of the damsel, and the redoubled devotion
of the decorous but determined Parker, who, cheered on by his ally,
still besieged the rebellious heart, undaunted by the reinforcements
lately received.
The prospect was certainly not a hopeful one; but the young people never
lost courage, rather enjoyed it on the whole, and revolved endless
schemes in their busy brains, which they confided to one another by
means of notes slipped under Tip's collar when he took his solitary
airings on the steps. For a time persecution lent its zest to their
love; but presently separation grew unbearable, and they were ready for
revolt.
"I _must_ see you," wrote John, in note number 37.
"You _shall_," answered Dolly, and bade him meet her at one of the many
Centennial Balls which afflicted the world in 1875-76.
To hear was to obey; and though said ball was to be eminently select,
thanks to a skilful use of his middle name, John was able to keep the
appointed tryst, well knowing that there is no solitude like that to be
found in a crowd. Costumes were in order; and there was a general
resurrection of ancient finery, which made the handsome hall look as if
time had rolled back a hundred years. Every one who had a hair powdered
it, and those who had not made up the deficiency by imposing wigs.
Spindle-legged gentlemen affected top-boots and spurs; those blessed
with a manly development of calf pranced in silk stockings and buckled
shoes. British and Continental uniforms amicably marched shoulder to
shoulder; dimity and brocade mingled prettily together; and patriotic
ardor animated the hearts under the lace stomachers and embroidered
waistcoats as warmly as of old, for the spirit of '76 was all alive
again.
Aunt Maria looked like a parrot of the most brilliant plumage; for the
good lady burned to distinguish herself, and had vainly tried to wear a
suit of Madam Hancock's belonging to Dolly. Fortunately, Madam was a
small woman, and Aunt Maria quite the reverse; so she was forced to give
it up, and content herself with being one of many Martha Washingtons who
filled the dowagers' corner.
So Dolly bloomed into the sweetest little old-time lady ever seen, and
was in truth by nature as by name a Dorothy Quincy. Not as the matron,
but as the maid, with all her curly locks turned over a roller before
they fell on her white neck, where shone the jewelled hearts she prized
so much. Lilies of the valley embroidered her white gown, and nestled
among the lace that rose and fell upon her bosom. From under her quilted
satin petticoat "her little feet stole in and out," wearing Madam's
wedding-shoes, so high in the heels and so pointed at the toes that
Dolly suffered martyrdom with a smiling face, and danced at the risk of
her life. Long gloves, with Lafayette's likeness stamped on the back,
kept splitting at the time-worn seams, so plump were the arms inside. A
quaint scent-bottle hung at her waist; and she hid her blushes behind a
great fan, whose dim mirror had reflected faces history has made
immortal.
"You are simply perfect, Miss Hill, and nothing could be added,"
whispered the still hopeful Parker, who was on duty and much elated by
the fact; for the girl was unusually friendly that evening for reasons
of her own.
"Except the Governor," she answered, peeping over her fan with eyes full
of anxiety as well as merriment; for John had not yet appeared, and the
little man beside her was very funny in a voluminous white neckcloth,
furred coat-collar, and square-toed shoes, carefully kept in the "first
position." He had longed to personate the character she suggested.
Stature forbade, however; and he had contented himself with personating
Benjamin Franklin, flattering himself that his placid countenance and
neat legs would be remarkably effective, also the fact that he had been
connected with the printing interest in early life.
"If you had only told me, I would have attempted it for your sake: you
have but to express a wish, and I am charmed to gratify it," murmured
the enamoured Benjamin, with a tenderly reproachful sigh, which stirred
his rampant shirt-frill like a passing breeze.
At that moment, as if a wish _had_ brought him, a veritable John Hancock
stood before them, looking comelier than ever, in a velvet suit, as he
laid his cocked hat upon his heart and asked, with a bow so deep that it
afforded a fine view of the garnet buckle in his stock,--
"May I have the honor, Madam?"
Glad to hide a traitorously happy face, Dolly made him a splendid
curtsey, and took his arm with a hasty--
"Excuse me, Mr. Parker. Please tell Aunt I'm going to dance."
"But--but--but--my dear Miss, I promised not to lose sight of you,"
stammered the defrauded Franklin, turning red with helpless rage, as the
full audacity of the lovers burst upon him.
"Well, you needn't. Wait for me here till my dance is over, then Aunt
won't know any thing about it," laughed wilful Dolly over her shoulder,
as she was swept away into the many-colored whirlpool that circled round
the hall to the entrancing music of a waltz.
While it lasted, words were needless; for eyes did the talking, smiles
proud or tender telegraphed volumes of poetry, the big hand held the
little one so close that it burst quite out of the old glove rosy with
the pressure, and the tall head was often so near the short one that the
light locks powdered the dark ones.
"A heavenly waltz!" panted Dolly, when it ended, feeling that she could
go on for ever, blind to the droll despair of poor Parker, as,
heroically faithful to his trust, he struggled frantically to keep the
happy pair in sight.
"Now we'll have a still more heavenly promenade in the corridor. Ben is
busy apologizing to half a dozen ladies whose trains he has walked up in
his mad career after us, so we are safe for a time," answered John,
ready to brave the wrath of many Aunt Marias; for the revolutionary
spirit was high within him, and he had quite made up his mind that
resistance to tyrants _was_ obedience to the little god he served just
then.
"Oh, John, how glad I am to see you after all this worry, and how nice
it was of you to come in such grand style to-night! I was so afraid you
couldn't manage it," said Dolly, hanging on his arm and surveying her
gallant Governor with pardonable pride.
"My blessed girl, there was nothing I couldn't manage with the prospect
of meeting you before me. Hasn't it been hard times for both of us?
You've had the hardest, I'm afraid, shut up with the dragon and no
refuge from daily nagging and Parker's persecution. If you hadn't the
bravest little heart in the world, you'd have given up by this;" and,
taking advantage of a shadowy corner, John embraced his idol, under
pretence of drawing her cloak about her.
"I'll never give up the ship!" cried the girl, quoting Lawrence of the
"Chesapeake," with a flash of the eye good to see.
"Stand to your guns, and we'll yet say, 'We've met the enemy, and they
are ours,'" answered John, in the words of brave Perry, and with a ring
to his voice which caused a passing waiter to pause, fancying he was
called.
Beckoning to him, John gave Dolly a glass of lemonade, and, taking one
himself, said with a look that made the toast a very eloquent one to
both of them,--
"The love of liberty--and--the liberty of love."
They drank it silently, then paced on again, so intent upon their own
emotions that neither saw a flushed and agitated countenance regard them
from a doorway, and then vanish, smiling darkly.
"Governor!"
"Dearest Madam!"
"Things have come to a crisis, and I've taken a resolution," began
Dolly, remembering that time was short.
"So have I."
"This is mine,--I'm going to Philadelphia."
"No!"
"Yes."
"How? when? why?"
"Be calm and listen. Aunt has given me just three days to choose between
accepting P. and being sent home in disgrace. I don't intend to do
either, but take matters into my own hands, and cease to be a burden."
"Hear! hear! but how?"
"At the fair the kitchen was a success, and there is to be a grand one
at the Exposition. Girls are wanted to wait there as here; they are
taken care of, and all expenses paid while they serve. I know some nice
people who are going for fun, and I'm to join them for a month at least.
That gives me a start, and afterward I certainly can find something to
do in the city of Brotherly Love."
"The knowledge that _I'm_ to be there on duty had nothing to do with
this fine plan of yours, hey, my Dolly?" and John beamed at her with
such a rapturous expression she had to turn him round, lest an advancing
couple should fancy he had been imbibing something stronger than
lemonade and love.
"Why, of course it had," she answered with adorable candor. "Don't you
see how lovely it will be to meet every day and talk over our prospects
in peace, while we are working away together till we have earned enough
to try the experiment we planned in the park?"
Stopping short, John grasped the hand that lay on his arm, looking as if
suddenly inspired, and exclaimed in a solemn yet excited tone,--
"_I've_ got a plan, a superb plan, only it may startle you a bit at
first. Why not marry and go together?"
Before Dolly could find breath to answer this momentous question, a
bomb-shell, in the shape of Aunt Maria, exploded before them, and put an
end to the privy conspiracy and rebellion.
"You will _not_ go anywhere together, for my niece is in the care of
this gentleman. I did think we should be free from annoyance here, but I
see I was mistaken. Mr. Parker, will you oblige me by taking Dolly home
at once?"
Every feather in the old lady's gray wig trembled with ire, as she
plucked the girl from one lover and gave her to the charge of the other,
in whom the conflicting emotions of triumph and trepidation were so
visible that the contrast between his countenance and costume was more
comical than ever.
"But, Aunt, it isn't time to go yet," protested Dolly, finding
submission very hard after her taste of freedom.
"It is quite time for persons who don't know how to behave with
propriety in public. Not a word! Take my wrap, and go at once. Mr.
Parker, please leave her in Mrs. Cobb's care, and return to enjoy
yourself. There is no reason why _your_ evening should be spoilt;" and
Aunt Maria bundled poor Dolly into an ugly shawl, which made her look
like a lovely tea-rose done up in brown paper.
This sudden fall from the height of happiness to the depths of helpless
indignation left John speechless for an instant, during which he with
difficulty resisted a strong desire to shake Aunt Maria, and spit
Benjamin Franklin on the sword that hung at his side. The sight of his
Dolly reft from him, and ruthlessly led away from the gayety she loved,
reminded him that discretion was the better part of valor, and for her
sake he tried to soften the dragon by taking all the blame upon himself,
and promising to go away at once. But, while he was expostulating, the
wary Parker carried off the prize; and, when John turned to say
good-night, she had vanished, and Aunt Maria stalked away, with a grim
laugh at his defeat.
That laugh made him desperate; and, rushing downstairs, he was about to
walk away in the rain, regardless of the damage to his costly suit, when
the sound of a voice checked his reckless flight, and, looking back, he
saw Dolly pausing on the stairs to say, with a glance from the ancestral
shoes to the wet pavement outside, "I don't mind wetting my feet, but I
cannot spoil these precious slippers. Please get my overshoes from the
dressing-room: I'll wait for you here."
"Certainly, certainly; and my coat also: we must be prudent after such
heat and excitement," replied Mr. Parker, glad to guard himself against
the rheumatism twinges which already began to afflict his lightly clad
extremities.
As he hurried back, a voice whispered, "Dolly!" and, regardless of the
perilously high heels, she ran down to join a black velvet gentleman
below, who said in her ear, as he led her toward the door,--
"I _must_ have a word more. Let me take you home; any carriage will do,
and it's our last chance."
"Yes, John, yes; but oh, my shoes!" and for one instant Dolly lingered,
as reverence for her relics contended with love for her Governor.
But he was equal to the occasion, and, having no cloak to lay under his
queen's feet, just took her in his arms, and before she knew it both
were in the coach, an order given, and they were off.
"Oh, John, how could you?" was all she said, casting away the big shawl,
to put both hands on the powdery shoulders before her; for her escort
was on his knees, quite in the style of the days when Sir Charles
Willoughby carried Evelina off in his chariot.
How he did it John never knew; but there he was, as unconscious of his
long limbs as if he had been a cherub, so intent was he on improving
this precious moment.
"I'd like to do a great deal more than that, but not to-night, though
I'm sorely tempted to run away with you, Dolly," he answered, feeling as
if it would be impossible to relinquish the little bundle of silk and
swan's down his arm enclosed.
"Oh, John, please don't! How could I in this dress, and no place to go
to, or any thing?"
"Don't be frightened, dear: I won't be rash. But, seriously, it must
come to that, and the sooner the better; so make up your mind to it, and
I'll manage all the rest. This is my plan, and yours will make it all
the easier. We _will_ go to Philadelphia; but we'll be married first,
and that shall be our wedding journey."
"But I'm not ready; we haven't any money; and only three days! I
couldn't, John, I couldn't!" and Dolly hid her face, glad, yet
half-frightened, at this prospect of such a release from all her woes.
"I knew it would startle you at first; but getting married is the
easiest thing in life when you set about it. You don't want any wedding
finery, I've got money enough, and can borrow more if I need it; and
three days is plenty of time to pack your trunk, have a farewell fight
with Aunt Maria, and run away to be the happiest little wife that ever
was. Say yes, darling; trust every thing to me, and, please God, you
never shall regret it."
Dolly had doubted the existence of genuine love nowadays, and John had
assured her that there were oceans of it. There certainly seemed to be
that night; and it was impossible to doubt the truth of his assertion
while listening to the tender prayers and plans and protestations he
poured into her ear, as they rolled on, regardless of the avenging
furies behind, and the untried fate before them. Storms raged without,
but peace reigned within; for Dolly showed signs of yielding, though she
had not consented when the run-away ride ended.
As John set her down in the hall, he added as a last appeal,--
"Remember, there were 'Daughters of Liberty,' as well as sons, in the
old times you love so well. Be one, and prove yourself worthy of your
name, as you bid me be of mine. Come, sweetheart, resist tyranny, face
poverty, love liberty, and declare your independence as bravely as they
did."
"I will!" and Dolly signed the declaration her Hancock headed, by giving
him her hand and sealing the oath with a kiss.
"One word more," he said hurriedly, as the clatter of an approaching
carriage sounded through the street: "I may not be able to see you
again, but we can each be getting ready, and meet on Monday morning,
when you leave for '_home_' in good truth. Put a lamp in the end window
the last thing Sunday night as the bells ring nine, then I shall be sure
that all is right, and have no delay in the morning."
"Yes, John."
"Good-night, and God bless you!"
There was no time for more; and as distracted Parker burst out of one
carriage, and Aunt Maria "came tumbling after," happy John Harris
stepped into the other, with a wave of the cocked hat, and drove away in
triumph.