Читать книгу Medoline Selwyn's Work - Mrs. J. J. Colter - Страница 8

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The next morning I was early astir. I was eager to explore the grounds around Oaklands, as well as the beaches and caves where the waves penetrated far under the rocks at high tide. The grounds I found very extensive—in places almost like some of the old English parks which I had seen on my visits there to distant relatives during the holidays. It was pleasant to think while wandering under the trees, and over the splendid wastes of flowers, and ornamental shrubs, and trees, that in this wide, vast America no one need be defrauded of his portion of mother earth by this immense flower garden; since there was more than sufficient land for every anxious toiler. To me there was an exceeding luxury in this reflection; for often on those lovely Kentish estates where I had visited, my heart had been grieved by the extremes of wealth and squalor. Pinched-faced women and children gazing hungrily through park gates at the flowers, and fountains, and all the beauty within, while they had no homes worthy the name, and alas! no flowers or fountains to gladden their beauty hungered hearts. My friends used to smile at my saddened face as I looked in these other human faces with a pitying sense of sisterhood, that was strange to them; but they humored my desire to try and gladden these lives so limited in their happy allotments, by gifts of rare flowers and choice fruits. But I used to find the old-fashioned flowers, that the gardeners grumbled least over my plucking, were the most welcome.

At luncheon I came in, my hair sea-blown from my visit to the rocks, and my face finely burnt by the combined influence of wind and sun. I expressed to Mrs. Flaxman a desire to visit my new acquaintance on the Mill Road. I noticed a peculiar uplifting of the eyebrows as I glanced towards Hubert.

"It will be something entirely new in Mill Road experience to have a friendly call from one of our Cavendish élite."

"Why, Hubert," his mother remonstrated, "it is not an unusual thing for our friends to visit the poor and sick on the Mill Road, as well as in the other humbler districts."

"Doubtless, but in much the same fashion as Queen Elizabeth used to visit her subjects—mere royal progresses, more bother than blessing. Miss Selwyn, I fancy, will go there in a friendly sort of way, that even Dan will appreciate."

"Oh, thank you, Hubert; but possibly, if I quite comprehended your meaning, I should be more provoked than complimented."

"Well, if I was one of the poor ones I would like your visits best. I would be willing to dispense with the dignity for sake of the friendliness that would recognize that I too had a common brotherhood with the highest as well as the lowest."

"Ah, I comprehend your meaning now, and I won't get angry with you. I think I must be a changeling, in spirit probably; there could be no mistake, I presume, in my physical identity, but my heart always claims kindred most with the lean, hungry faces."

"You could soon make my eyes watery, I do believe," Hubert said, with a gentleness that surprised me.

I saw Mrs. Flaxman quietly drying her eyes and wondered why my few, simple words should touch their tear fountain.

Towards evening I started on my walk to the Mill Road. The gardener had very graciously allowed me to gather some flowers to take with me. These I had arranged with some wet mosses I found in the woods that morning; and begging a nice little basket from the housekeeper, had them very daintily arranged. When I came downstairs equipped for my walk, I found a very stylish young lady standing in the hall beside Mrs. Flaxman.

"Esmerelda will show you the way. I scarcely feel equal for such a walk this hot day, and I know you will kindly excuse me."

"Oh certainly; it would trouble me to have you walk any distance when you look so frail."

"I am not frail, dear; but I have got into an idle habit of taking my outings in the carriage; and so walking soon tires me."

I turned towards the young lady, who in a very graceful, dignified way seemed to be awaiting my pleasure. I could not believe she was a servant, and felt quite shabby when I compared my own costume with hers.

When we were walking down the avenue I ventured a remark or two on the beauty of the place; but she answered me with such proud reserve I suddenly relapsed into silence which remained unbroken until we reached Mrs. Blake's door. While I stood knocking at the front door Esmerelda slipped around to the back of the cottage where a rough, board porch served as entrance for every day occasions. Mrs. Blake met me with genuine cordiality, and then led me into a close smelling room. The floor was covered with a cheap carpet, a few common chairs, a very much worn horse-hair sofa, and a table covered with a very new, and very gay-looking cloth, comprised the furnishing, with the exception of walls decorated with cheap chromos in the most wonderful frames I ever saw—some of them made of shells, some of leather, some of moss, and others simply covered, with bright pieces of chintz. I longed to arrange them in more orderly fashion. They were hanging crooked or too close together, not one of them in a proper way I decided, as I took a swift survey of the room. But presently my gaze was arrested, and all thought of pictures hung awry ceased; for there, in a darkened corner of the room, I traced the rigid outlines of a human figure concealed beneath a sheet.

"You brought these to put round the corpse?" Mrs. Blake questioned, suddenly bringing me back from my startled reverie.

"Yes, if you would care for them."

She lifted them out of the basket with a tenderness that surprised me, and placed them in water; she sat looking at them intently.

"Do you admire flowers?" I asked.

"Oh, yes; but they're useless things, I s'pose. No good once they're wilted."

"But they are perfect while they last."

"Yes, and I allus feels sorry for the poor things, when I see 'em put round a corpse and buried in the ground; may be they have more feeling than we allow for."

She spoke so sadly, I felt my eyes moisten; but whether it was out of pity for the flowers, the poor dead woman lying opposite, or my friend Mrs. Blake, who seemed strangely subdued, I could not tell.

"She was gone when I got here," she said, nodding her head at the corpse. "Dan'el's terrible cut up; it minds me so of the time we lost our first baby. I had to do everything then and I've got to do the same now."

"I presume she was a very good wife."

"I don't know. Men generally frets hardest after the uselessest ones. I s'pose it's because they're easy-going and good-natured; but laws, I mustn't be hard. Mother-in-laws don't see with their children's eyes. I often think, in some ways, 'twould be best for one generation to die off afore the next takes their place. It's a mercy we don't live like they did in the first of Bible times. For poor women folk's life ain't much after fifty any way, specially if they're depending on their children. Hard work, shoved in a corner, and the bite you eat begrudged you."

"Surely you don't speak from experience," I gasped, quite horrified.

"Me? Oh, no. I've managed better'n most in my way of life. I help, instead of getting help. But I'm not thinking of myself all the time. I see other women's hardships, and pity 'em too."

She turned the conversation abruptly by asking:

"Would you like to see the corpse?"

I certainly wished to see almost anything on earth rather than that; but, lest I should be offending the proprieties, I followed her and stood beside the still, outstretched form. She turned down the sheet when, for an instant, my head swam; and then I shut firmly my eyes and stood until I concluded the ghastly spectacle was hidden behind the sheet. Mrs. Blake's voice caused me to open my eyes with a start.

"Be you faint?"

I crossed the room directly, and sat down before I replied.

"Certainly not; but the sight was a painful one."

"I know there's a sight of difference in corpses. Perfessors of religion make the peacefullest."

"Was she not one?"

"Well, no; and she was took so bad she hadn't time to perfess. Beside Dan'el tells me she suffered uncommon till the very last breath, that makes her look more distressin' than she would."

"Is he a professor?"

"No, my family didn't seem to lean that way. But my! they was a sight better'n some that did let on they was very good."

"He will become a Christian now, surely."

"Tain't likely. One soon forgets the feelins death leaves, and then we all look for a quiet spell afore we die." I felt as if skeleton fingers were clutching at my vitals; and altogether terrified I rose to go.

"The funeral will be to-morrow at two o'clock; perhaps you wouldn't mind coming?"

"If you would like me to attend, I will do so."

"I don't know why it is, but seems to me it would be a comfort to have you. Quality always could touch my heart better'n my own kind."

"You may be reckoned among that class in the next world."

She stood in the doorway, her eyes turned wistfully towards the setting sun. "I hain't thought much about that world. I know it's a mistake to live as I've done."

I wished so much I could recommend her to a better way of life; but remembering that I too was living only for this world, I could say nothing.

Pressing her hand gently I turned to leave, when I saw Esmerelda coming out of the door after me.

The rigid form I had looked at and Mrs. Blake's words had softened my heart; so I tried once more to chat pleasantly with my escort; but probably she had not got the same lesson as I, for she put on as many airs as before. When I met Mrs. Flaxman I inquired what Esmerelda's position was in the household. To my astonishment she said:

"She is the chambermaid."

"But is she a lady?"

"Every one that can dress becomingly claims that title with us; I presume Esmerelda with the rest."

"But her mother?" I left the sentence unfinished.

"Lives on Mill Road and takes in washing."

"Don't you think it is wiser to keep servants in their proper place as they do in Europe? One is not in danger there of mistaking maid for mistress."

"Ah, that is a problem for wiser heads than ours to solve. Each system has its grievances; if human nature had not suffered so severely from the original transgression I should favor the American plan."

"But it has fallen, and requires generations of training to fit one for such assumption of dignity."

"Even so, we come on debatable ground. Where do you find longer lines of trained generations than in those Royal families that cost you so much to support, and what do many of them amount to? How many of them would it take to make one Lincoln? He was a peasant's son, as they reckon rank."

"But there are not many Lincolns; and I fear we can find a good many Esmereldas."

"She is a very good chambermaid. What fault do you find with her?"

I smiled, though utterly discomfited.

"A fault one cannot easily forgive. She impresses me with her own superiority, especially in the matter of dress."

"Yes, our shop and servant girls are usually good artists in the matter of personal attire; but I usually find the really clever ones are the poorest dressers."

"Is not that the case with others than they? Persons who have more enduring objects of contemplation than personal attire do not bestow enough time on how they shall robe themselves to excel in dressing artistically."

"I know that; but since Eve's fig-leaf invention the matter of dress has been an absorbing one for nearly every generation."

"In the main; but there have been beautiful exceptions all down the long stream of the ages. I met some literary women the last time I was visiting in England, and their minds seemed so far superior to their bodies, or the clothes they wore, that ever since I have been ashamed of myself when I get particularly interested in what I am to wear."

"You are young, my child, to begin to philosophize on the matter of clothes. You have read Sartor Resartus?"

"Oh, yes, and I want to be something better than a mere biped without feathers."

"To want is the first step toward the accomplishment. I think you will suit Mr. Winthrop after he gets to know you, if ever he does," she added, after a pause.