Читать книгу Who Would Have Thought It? - María Ruiz de Burton - Страница 14

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BEFORE seeing the elegant Misses Norval off to be presented to the crowned heads, we must give some attention to a member of Mrs. Norval's family who is of great importance in these pages, although he has been mentioned only casually. I mean no other than Mr. Isaac Sprig, Mrs. Norval's youngest brother.

This gentleman wrote to his sister that he, though entirely blameless, had got into "the most sticky scrape that ever a fellow could trip up into," and that unless Dr. Norval went to pull him out of that hole, he-Isaac-did not see a way to crawl out of it.

Mrs. Norval was very indignant with Isaac; but when she came to that part of his doleful letter in which he said that he and Julius Cæsar Cackle were in the same scrape, but that as Cackle had two brothers just elected to Congress, he had only changed places, and from the Treasury Department had been merely transferred to the Post-Office Department, whilst heIsaac—was turned out of office, the heart of Mrs. Norval swelled, and throbbed, and ached. Her indignation against Isaac was lost in the greater one she felt against the government of the United States of America.

Oh! the idea that a Cackle should be transferred from one department to another, whilst a Sprig-her brother—was turned out! And who were those Cackles? and how came they to have more influence than Isaac? This very Julius Cæsar Cackle got his clerkship through Dr. Norval's influence, and the doctor even lent him money to pay his expenses to Washington, after getting him the place. And as for these two brothers-Mirabeau and Cicero Cackle —who were now just elected members of Congress, why were they so? Because Dr. Norval had lent them the necessary money.

If it had not been for the doctor, instead of giving themselves airs at Washington, they would now be at home, plowing, or minding their cattle in the barn, instead of representing their constituents at the capital. All this was too much for a rich woman to bear. She would send her husband to demand that her brother be reinstated, and that without any assistance from the ungrateful Cackles, those Cackles who might be M.C.'s, but were nevertheless Cackles.

Isaac, it is true, was a scapegrace, not at all a sober - minded, economical, thrifty New Englander. He was free with his money, he liked foreigners, and had a most lamentable penchant for gallantry. Mrs. Norval thought of all this, and yet she—the paragon of all matrons-preferred this black sheep Isaac to all her family, excepting her children.

I heard a crusty bachelor once say that women of a severe cast of mind were sure to have folds and creases in the heart, where preferences for scamps were always certain to hide themselves. This theory perhaps accounts for Mrs. Norval's preference for Isaac,--this Isaac, who had done nothing but shock her feelings and her rigorous sense of propriety. Isaac would prefer Havana cigars to a pipe or a chaw of tobacco, and those miserable sour wines to a good drink of whisky, old Mr. Sprig said; and the information only increased Mrs. Norval's fear that Isaac would come to no good end. Lately, too, Mrs. Norval had learned that Isaac went often to the theatre, and also to hear the singing of the Catholic Church, all of which was the same thing to the strict New England matron, and in her heart she blamed her husband. Yes, Dr. Norval had either developed or created those tastes in Isaac for every abomination which the well-regulated mind of a New Englander repudiates. The doctor had taught him to drink Rhine wine once when they were looking for mineral specimens in the mountains of New Hampshire. The doctor had taught him to smoke cigars. The doctor had taken him to the opera, and to the Catholic Church.

On hearing of this last performance, old Mr. Sprig had said to the doctor, "Though we owe everything to you, sir, still, I hope you will not be offended if I say that my old woman say she's very uneasy in her mind about our Isaac going to places of sin; and though we owe everything to you, sir—"

"Goodness, father! you repeat that every time you see James. What is it, after all, you owe him, that you should be so humbly grateful to him?" interrupted Mrs. Norval, provoked with her simple-hearted father.

"Nothing, my dear, of course," said the doctor.

But a glance at Mrs. Norval's history previous to her appearance in these truthful pages will show that old Mr. Sprig was about right.

Old Mr. Abraham Sprig lived on a small farm with his family, which consisted of two girls and two boys. Jemima and Lavinia were the girls, Abraham and Isaac the boys. They lived very happily. They raised poultry and vegetables, which the boys took to market in Boston every Saturday morning. The old lady and Jemima put up pickles, and made butter and apple-sauce; all of which articles, being of good quality, commanded high prices in the Boston market. The Sprigs had lived in this Yankee Arcadia for many years, and Jemima had attained her twentieth year, when one morning,-a Saturday morning,--as she was counting the eggs to send to market, a young man, dressed as a college boy, stood by the henhouse door, and, without previous salutation to announce his arrival, said to her,

"Will you have the kindness to tell me if I may walk through this field over to Mrs. Norval's house?"

So astonished was Jemima to see that handsome young gentleman standing there with hat in hand, speaking to her in a soft, gentlemanly sort of deeptoned voice, that she let three eggs drop,--all of which got broken,-and on that accoụnt she was not able to send twelve dozen, but only eleven, to market, which caused her great chagrin and disappointment.

But though Jemima colored up with vexation, still, she told the young man quite politely he could walk across the field if he wished.

The buggy I was coming in got broken, and that was the only conveyance I could get at the station, I have had to walk four miles, and I'll have to walk two more if I don't cut across those fields," said the young man, apologetically. "I am anxious to get there, because they telegraphed to me that my uncle is very ill. Do you know how he is? Mr. Norval, I mean: he being your neighbor, you might know how he is," said the young man, timidly.

"It is all up with him," said hopeful Isaac, snapping his fingers.

"Hush, Isaac!" said Jemima to her brother. Then to the young man: "I have not heard this morning how Mr. Norval is, but last night he was very low, sir, I am very sorry to say. My mother and father are now with Mr. Norval; and if I can be of any service to you, I hope you will not hesitate to command me."

"Thank you, thank you very much," said the young man, hurrying off.

The dying man had barely time to bid his beloved nephew adieu, when, giving him his blessing, he closed his eyes forever.

This uncle had been young James Norval's guardian and his only near relative. James felt his loss most keenly, for he had been very tenderly attached to him, and for a time he seemed inconsolable. But young Norval was a college boy, at the susceptible age of nineteen: so the warm sympathy of the finelooking Jemima Sprig gradually consoled the affectionate heart of the orphan boy, who wanted nothing better than to be consoled; for his cheerful, healthy mind instinctively rejected sadness.

From gratitude nothing was easier than to glide into love, on a quiet farm, with a fine girl constantly showing him all sorts of attentions, and his young heart longing to love some one. So the ardent college boy fell heels over head in love with Jemima, and would not return to college until he had declared his love. Jemima saw what was coming, and she took care to give him a chance.

One day Jemima said she was going to gather apples for the cider-press, and young Norval, of course, most naturally went to offer his assistance. They had a basket almost full of apples, when the college boy fell on his knees by the basket and told his love. Just at that time the boys, Abraham and Isaac, came into the orchard with the cows. The two lovers pretended to have upset the basket and to be very busy collecting the scattered apples.

But the nineteen-year-old lover was not to be balked in this manner, and he had to return to college next day.