Читать книгу Tessa Wadsworth's Discipline - Mrs. Nathaniel Conklin - Страница 7

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There was the faintest streak of sunshine on the dying verbenas in her garden; the dead leaves, twigs, and sprays looked as if some one who did not care had trampled on them. She was glad that the plants were in, that there was a warm place for them somewhere.

The school children were jostling against each other on the planks, on the opposite side of the street, laughing and shouting. Nellie Bird was provokingly chanting:

“Freddie’s mad,

And I am glad,

And I know what will please him.”

and there were two little girls in red riding hoods, plaid cloaks, and gay stockings, skipping along with their hands joined. It was a hard world for little girls to grow up in. She had run along the planks from school once, not so very long ago, swinging her lunch-basket and teasing Felix Harrison just as at this minute Nellie Bird was teasing Freddie Stone.

Her needle was taking exquisite stitches; Dinah liked white aprons for school wear, and this was the last of the dainty half-dozen. Her mother’s voice and step broke in upon her reverie.

“Tessa, I wouldn’t have believed it, but six of my cans of tomatoes have all sizzled up! Not one was last year, though. Mrs. Bird never has such good luck with hers as we have with ours.”

“That’s too bad. But we have so many that we sha’n’t miss them.”

“That isn’t the question. I remember how my side ached that day. Bridget was so stupid and you and Dine had gone up to West Point with Gus; he always is coming and taking you and Dine off somewhere! You are not attending to a word I say.”

“Yes, I am; I am thinking how you took us all three to look at your cans of tomatoes.”

“But you don’t care about the tomatoes. You never do take an interest in house-work. I would rather have Sue Greyson’s skin stuffed with straw than to have you around the house. And she is going to marry Ralph Towne: she passed with him this morning; they were in the phaeton with that pair of little grays! And Sue was driving! I believe that you have taken cold in some way, you must see the doctor the next time he comes; your face is the color of chalk, and your eyes are as big as saucers with dark rims under them! You sat here writing altogether too late last night.”

“It was only eleven when I went up-stairs.”

“That was just an hour too late. What good does your writing do you or any body, I’d like to know.”

“It is rather too early in my life to judge.”

“Your father spoils you about writing; I suppose that he thinks you are a feather in his cap; I tell him that you are none of my bringing up.”

“I am not ‘up’ yet, perhaps.”

“You may as well drop that work and take a run into Dunellen; the air will do you good. You had color enough in the summer. I want a spool of red silk, two pieces of crimson dress braid, and a spool of fifty cotton. Don’t get scarlet braid, I want crimson; and run into the library and get me something exciting; you might have known better than to bring me that volume of essays!”

She folded the apron and laid it on the pile in the willow work-basket, wrapped herself in a bright shawl, covered her braids with a brown velvet hat, and started for her walk, drawing on her gloves as she went down the path.

Her mother stood at the window watching her. “She is too deep for me,” she soliloquized; “there is more in her than I shall ever make out. She is so full of nonsense that I expect she has refused Ralph Towne, and what for, I can’t see—there’s no one else in the way.”

In Tessa’s pocket was a long and wide envelope containing the article that she had sat up last night to write; the lessons gathered from her old year she had told in her simple, quaint, forcible style. The title was as simple as the article: “Making Mistakes.”

“Tessa, you are not brilliant,” Miss Jewett had once remarked, “but you do go right to the spot.”

The fresh air tinged her cheeks, she breathed more freely away from her work and her reveries; there was life and light somewhere, she need not suffocate in the dark.

It was not a long walk into the little city of Dunellen; fifteen minutes of brisk stepping along the planks brought her to the corner that turned into the broad, paved, maple-lined street. As she turned the corner, a lame child in a calico dress and torn hood staggered past her bent with the weight of a heavy basket. She stopped and would have spoken, but the shy eyes were not encouraging.

Two years ago all the world might have knocked at her gate and she would not have heard.

“Will you ride?” She lifted her eyes, with their color deepening, to find Mr. Towne sitting alone in his carriage looking down at her.

“You are going the wrong way.”

“Because I am not going your way?” he asked somewhat sternly.

“I thought that you had gone away,” she said uncomfortably.

“We go on the seventeenth.”

“You have not told me where?”

“Have I not? You have forgotten. Sue will stay at home and learn to be sensible.”

“I don’t like you when you speak in that tone.”

“Then I will never do it again.”

“Good-by,” she said cheerily, passing on.

His thoughts ran on—“How bright she is! She has a sweet heart, if ever a woman had! I wonder if I am letting slip through my fingers one of the opportunities that come to a man but once in a lifetime! A year or two hence will do; she cares too much to forget me.”

Her thoughts ran on-“How can you look so good and so handsome and not be true!”

With a quickened step she crossed the Park. Miss Jewett’s large fancy store was opposite the Park.

Miss Jewett was never too tired or too busy to live again her young life. Sue Greyson was sure that she had broken somebody’s heart, else she never was so eloquent in warning her about Stacey Rheid. Laura Harrison had decided that she had once lived in constant dread of having a step-mother. Mary Sherwood wondered if she had ever been a busybody, and in that experience had learned to warn her to keep quiet her busy tongue; and Tessa Wadsworth knew that she must have learned her one word of advice: “Wait,” through years that she would not talk about.

Miss Jewett was seldom alone; Tessa was glad to find the clerks absent and no one bending over the counter but Sue Greyson.

“O, Tessa,” she cried in her loud, laughing voice. “I haven’t seen you in an age.”

Miss Jewett’s greeting was a hand-clasp; among all her girls (and all the girls in Dunellen were hers) Tessa Wadsworth was the elected one.

“Mrs. Towne has every thing so delicious,” Sue was rattling on; “such perfumes and such silks and such jewels. Oh, how Old Place makes my mouth water! I wish you could go over the place, Tessa; you were never even through the grounds, were you? Mr. Ralph takes great pride in keeping it nice; of course, it is really his. I’d marry any body to live there and have plenty of money and do just as I please; not that Mr. Ralph isn’t something out of the common, though. People say that he never means any thing by his attentions; Dr. Lake says—”

“I hear that you are going to St. Louis,” interrupted Miss Jewett.

“No, I’m not. And I’m as provoked as I can be and live! Something has happened; Mr. Ralph is an uneasy mortal; he never knows what he will do next, and he has changed his mind about taking me. My cake is all dough about my winter’s fun. How I cried the night she told me! The last night of the year, too, when I ought to have been full of fun. Mrs. Towne wants me to write to her, but I’d never dare, unless you would help me, Tessa, about the spelling and punctuation. Mr. Ralph would laugh until he died over my letters.

“I don’t write to Stacey now, Miss Jewett. I wrote him a letter one Sunday from Old Place and told him that he might as well cease. Mr. Ralph and I had been walking through the wood and he asked me if I were engaged to Stacey! I thought it was about time to stop that.”

“Perhaps if you had been home you wouldn’t have written that letter. Stacey is a fine fellow.”

“Oh, I had thought of it, but that day I decided! Stacey can hardly support one, let alone two. Father says that I was born to have a rich husband because I have such luxurious tastes! I know that I shall die cooped up at home. I have to go out to see the sons and daughters of the land. Tessa, I don’t see how you live.”

“I do, nevertheless,” said Tessa, selecting her spool of silk.

“I shall have Dr. Lake this winter or I couldn’t exist. He says that he will take me everywhere if father will only give him the time. He is great fun, only he does get so moody and serious; sits for two hours in the office with his head in his hands. Mr. Ralph doesn’t have moods; he is always pleasant. I am going to stay these last few days at Old Place. Tessa, I am coming to stay all night with you and have a long talk.”

“I shall be very glad; I have been wishing that you would.”

“Oh, I’ll come. I have a whole budget to tell you.”

“Sue, you look thin,” said Miss Jewett, rolling up her purchases.

“I am thin. Since the night before New Years I have lost three pounds.”

The night before New Years! Tessa’s veil shaded her face falling between her and Sue.

“Mr. Ralph lectured me; oh, how he talked! When he will, he will, that’s the truth. His mother says that her will is nothing compared to his, and I believe it.” Sue’s face grew troubled. “He told me that I ought to read travels and histories, and throw away novels; that I ought to marry Stacey, if he is a good man and can take care of me—” Her voice sounded as if she were crying; she laughed instead and ran off.

“Something at Old Place has hurt Sue; I didn’t like the idea of Mrs. Towne taking her up; Mr. Towne—I do not know about him! Do you?”

“No.”

“Ah, here comes Sarah! Rachel has a sore throat, and Mary has gone to the city to buy to-day. Light the gas, Sarah.”

The light flashed over the faces: Miss Jewett’s almost as fair as a child’s, and sweeter than any child’s that Tessa had ever seen, with a mouth in the lines of which her whole history was written, with just a suspicion of dimples in the tinted cheeks, with brown rings of soft hair touching the smooth forehead; the younger face was hurried, anxious, with a trembling of the lips, and a nervous gleam in the eyes that were so dark, to-night, that they might have been mistaken for hazel.

The door was pushed open; a crowd of girls giggled in; Tessa bowed to Mary Sherwood and moved aside. She was turning over a pile of wools, selecting colors for a sacque for Dinah, when a laugh from the group thrilled her; low, deep, full, in all her life she had never heard a sound like it.

It was as sweet as the note of a thrush and as jubilant as a thoughtless girl.

“Now, Naughty Nan, you are laughing at me. But I will forgive you, because you are going away so soon. When are you coming back?”

“Never. I will allure the black bear to take me around the world.”

Naughty Nan stepped back, tossing her curls away from her face; Tessa looked down into her face, for she was a little thing; it was not a remarkable face: a broad forehead, deep set brown eyes, a passable complexion, a saucy mouth. If she would only laugh again; but she would not even speak.

How surprised Tessa would have been had she known that Naughty Nan had been studying her and wishing, “I want to be like you.”

The group of girls giggled out.

“I have fallen in love,” said Tessa.

“With Nan Gerard? Every body does. She is one of those lovable little creatures that every body spoils! It’s strange that you haven’t met her; she is Mary Sherwood’s cousin.”

“I do remember now—Mr. Hammerton told me that I must hear her laugh.”

“Her home is in St. Louis; she had never been in Dunellen until a month since; she was her father’s pet and lived abroad with him until he died a year ago! He named her Naughty Nan. She has plenty of money and plenty of lovers! She is going home under the escort of Mr. Towne and his mother. Perhaps it is her laugh that has stolen his heart from Sue! Naughty Nan was to be married, but the gentleman died in consumption.”

“And she can laugh as lightly as that! If my father should die I would never laugh again.”