Kitabı oku: «Silver Pitchers: and Independence, a Centennial Love Story», sayfa 9

MY ROCOCO WATCH

All three of us were inspired with an intense desire to possess one of these quaint watches, the moment we saw one hanging at the side of a certain lovely woman at a party where it created a great sensation.

Imitations we would not have, and the genuine article could not be found even in Geneva, the paradise of time-pieces. My sisters soon ceased to pine for the impossible, and contented themselves with other antique gauds. Fan rejoiced in a very ugly Cinque-Cento ring like a tiny coffin, and Mary was the proud possessor of a Roman necklace composed of gods and goddesses.

I, however, remained true to my first love and refused to be satisfied with any thing but a veritable rococo watch, for that, I maintained, united the useful and the beautiful. Resisting the temptations of Rome, Paris, and Geneva, I skilfully lured my unsuspecting party into all sorts of out-of-the-way places under pretence of studying up the old French cathedrals.

The girls did the churches faithfully, but I shirked them and spent my shining hours poking about dirty streets and staring in at the windows of ancient jewelry shops, patiently seeking for the watch of my dreams. I was rallied unmercifully upon my mania, and many jokes were played upon me by the frolicksome girls, who more than once sent me posting off by reports of some remarkable trinket in some almost unattainable place.

But, nothing daunted, I continued my vain search all through France, and never relinquished my hope till we left St. Malo on our way to Brest, whence we were to sail for home. Then I despaired, and, having nothing more to toil for, began to enjoy myself with a free mind, and then it was that capricious fortune chose to smile upon me and reward my long quest.

Finding that we had a day before us, we explored the queer old town, and, as our tastes varied, each went a different way. I roamed about the narrow streets, seeking some odd souvenir to carry away, and was peering into a dark lane, attracted by some fine shells, when suddenly I was arrested by a sight which caused me to pause in the middle of a puddle, exclaiming dramatically, "At last! at last!"

Yes, there, in the dusty window of a pawnbroker's shop, hung the most enchanting watch, crystal ball, silver chains, enamelled medallions, and cluster of charms, all encrusted with pearls, garnets, and turquoises set in the genuine antique style. One long gaze, one rapturous exclamation, and I skipped from the puddle to the doorstep, bent on securing the prize at all costs.

Bouncing in upon a withered little man, who was taking coffee in a shadowy recess, I demanded the price of the watch. Of course the little man was on the alert at once, and began by protesting that it was not for sale; but I saw the fib in his eye, and sweetly insisted that I must have it. Then he improvised a mournful tale about a family of rank reduced by misfortune and forced to dispose of their cherished relics in some private manner. I affected to believe the touching romance, and offered a handsome sum for the watch, which, on closer inspection, struck me as rather more antique than even I desired.

Instantly the little man clasped his hands and protested that it was an insult to propose such a paltry price for so beautiful and perfect a treasure. Double the sum might be a temptation, but not a sou less.

This was so absurd that I tried to haggle a little; but I never succeeded in that line, so my attempt ended in both of us getting angry, when the little man tore the watch from my hands, and I left the shop as precipitately as I entered it.

Retiring to the square to cool my indignation, I was reposing on a bench, when I beheld the little man approaching with the blandest expression, and, bowing profoundly, he resumed the subject as if we had parted amicably.

"If madame would allow him to consult the owner of this so charming watch, the affair might yet be arranged in a satisfactory manner. If madame would leave her address, he would report to her in a few hours, and have the happiness of obliging the dear lady."

I consented, but preferred to return to his shop later in the day, for I wished to astonish the girls by producing my prize at some opportune moment, and I much feared if I told them of my discovery that the bargain would never be made.

I suffered agonies of suspense for hours, but basely attributed my restlessness to the heat and weariness. Five o'clock and dinner, but I declined going down, and slipped away to my tryst with the little old man. He was ready for me with another romance of the noble owner's reluctance to part with an heirloom for less than the price he had named. In vain I talked, wheedled, and protested; the crafty little man saw that I meant to have that watch, and was firm. At last I pretended to give it up, and, thanking him for his trouble, retired mournfully, hoping he would follow me again, for I had told him that I should leave in the steamer expected next day.

But the evening passed, and no little man appeared, although I sat on the balcony till the moon rose. Morning came, and with it the steamer, but still no watch arrived, as other coveted articles had often done, when we firmly refused to be imposed upon.

My secret agitation increased, and my temptation waxed stronger and stronger as the hour of departure approached. The girls thought me nervous about the voyage, but were too busy to heed my preoccupation, while I was too much ashamed of my infatuation to confess it and ask advice.

Fifteen minutes before we started for the wharf, I gave in, and muttering something about looking up the carriage, I flew round the corner, demanded the watch, paid an abominable price for it, and sneaked back, knowing I had been cheated by the sly old fellow, who had evidently expected me, and whom I left chuckling over his bargain, as well he might, the rascal!

The moment the deed was done my spirits returned, and I beamed upon my sisters as benignly as if I carried a boundless supply of good humor in my pocket instead of that costly watch packed up in a shabby little box.

We sailed, and for several days I forgot every thing but my own woe; then came a calm, and then choosing a moment when the girls were comparing their treasures with those of other returning voyagers, I proudly produced my watch. The effect was superb. Cries of admiration greeted it from all but my sisters, who looked at one another in comic dismay and burst into fits of laughter.

"We saw it and tried to get it, but it cost so much we gave it up, and never told lest Penelope should be tempted beyond her strength. We might have spared our pains, for it was to be, and it is vain to fight against fate, only do tell us if you paid that Shylock what he asked us?" said Mary, naming a smaller sum than my first handsome offer.

"I did not pay that, and I shall never tell what it cost, for you wouldn't believe me if I did. It was a good bargain, I assure you – for Shylock," I added to myself, and kept my secret jealously, knowing I never should hear the last of it if the awful truth was known.

My treasure was so much admired that I was afraid it would be ravished from me, and I hid it in all sorts of places, like a magpie with a stolen spoon. I never went on deck without taking it with me for safe keeping. I never woke in the morning without burrowing under my mattress to see if it was safe, and never turned in for the night without seeing that I was prepared for shipwreck by having my life-preserver handy and half-a-dozen ship biscuits, a bottle of water, and the precious box lashed firmly together, for with that dearly bought watch I was resolved to sink or swim, live or die.

Being permitted to reach land in safety, I prepared to eclipse Fan's ring and Mary's necklace with my rich and rare rococo watch. But I found it impossible to set it going, though I tried all the keys in the house, so I took it to an experienced watchmaker and left it to be regulated. Every one knows what that means, and can imagine my impatience as week after week went by and still that blessed thing was not done. It came at last, however, and with it a bill that startled me; but I could not dispute it, for the job was a difficult one, owing to the antiquity of the works and the skill required to set a watch going that probably had not been wound up for half a century.

It went for a week, and then stopped for ever; for the general verdict was that no modern tinkering would restore its tone, since the springs of life were broken and the venerable wheels at a dead lock.

"Well, it is ornamental if not useful, only I am sorry I gave away my good old watch, thinking this would be all I needed," I said, making the best of what I alone knew to be a desperately bad bargain.

So I hung the silent thing to my girdle and went forth to awaken the envy and admiration of all beholders. But, alas! the second time I wore it, one of the medallions was lost, could not be found, and its place had to be filled with a modern one, entirely out of keeping with the others. Bill the second was paid with much lamentation, and again I tried to enjoy my watch. But the fates seemed to be against me, for presently it was stolen by a maid who admired mediæval jewelry as well as her mistress.

What a state of excitement we were in then, to be sure! Cousin Dick took the matter in hand, and searched for the lost watch with the patience, if not the skill, of a detective. Mysterious men came to examine the servants, dreadful questions as to its value were put to me, and, worst of all, I knew that this sort of hide-and-go-seek was a fearfully expensive game, and of course I wasn't going to let Dick pay for it.

It was found at last, and restored to me somewhat the worse for the rough handling of curious admirers. Bill the third was paid with the calmness of despair, for I really began to think some evil spell was hidden in that crystal ball; a spell which attracted, then infatuated, and now controlled me, leading me slowly and surely, through tribulation after tribulation, to the poor-house in the end.

The accidents that befell that fatal watch would fill a chapter, and the narrow escapes it had would make a thrilling tale. Babies half choked themselves with the charms, little Tommy was discovered trying to divest it of all incumbrances that he might use it as a "jolly big marble." It was always falling off, catching in buttons, or bobbing wildly about when I danced, and more than once I was cut to the soul by hearing benighted people wonder at Miss Pen's bad taste in wearing Salom jewelry. Salom, be it known to the ignorant, is an excellent man who deals in mock ornaments of great brilliancy and cheapness.

Soon the jewels began to fall out, and I scattered pearls about me like the young lady in the fairy tale. Then the chain broke, and the charms were lost. In one of the many falls, the crystal got cracked; the silver tarnished till it looked like dingy lead, and at last no beauty remained to reconcile me to its utter uselessness. My poor watch was the standing joke of the family, and kept every one merry but its owner. To me it was a disgrace, and I suffered endless disappointments and delays by having no trusty time-keeper at hand. Pride prevented my applying to others, and bitterly I mourned in secret for the true old friend I had deserted when the false new one came.

I ceased to wear the hollow mockery, and hoped people would forget it, but the girls still displayed their more successful ornaments; and I was forced to tell the sad tale of my mortifying failure in reply to the natural question, —

"And what charming old trinket did Pen get?"

But this was not the worst of it. Like little Rosamond in the moral tale, I had to wear my old shoes when the purple jar proved a delusion and a snare. I had overrun my allowance by that rash purchase, and had to economize just when I most wished to be fine. "Beauty unadorned," and that sort of thing, is all nonsense when a woman burns to look her loveliest in the eyes of certain persons, and the anguish I endured when I looked at that rubbishy old watch, and thought what sweet things could have been bought with the money recklessly lavished upon it, can better be imagined than described.

Fain would I have sold my treasure for a quarter what I gave for it, but who would buy the ruined relic now? And the mere idea of having it even partially repaired made my blood run cold. So I laid it away as a warning example of woman's folly, and began to save up, that I might replace it by a modern watch with all the improvements procurable for money.

I was effectually cured of my passion for antiquities, and hated the sound of the word rococo. Nothing could be too new for me now, and I privately studied up on watches, being bound never to buy another, which, though it might last to all eternity, yet had no connection with time.

Slowly the memory of that temptation and fall seemed to fade from all minds but my own; slowly my little hoard increased at the expense of many an ungratified whim, inviting bargain, or girlish vanity, and slowly I decided what sort of watch would most entirely combine the solid virtues and modest graces I desired to possess in the new one I intended to choose so wisely and well.

But just as my hundred dollars was nearly completed, I discovered that Dick's younger brother, Geordie, had got himself into a boyish scrape, and was planning to run away to sea as the best means of settling the difficulty. I was immediately possessed with an intense desire to help the poor lad, and, having won his confidence in a desponding moment, I offered my little hoard as a loan, to be paid in time, if he would accept it on no other condition.

I really don't think I could have done it for any one but Dick's brother, and I did not desire any praise for it, since I made the boy take a solemn vow that it should be a secret between us for ever. It was reward enough to know that I had spared dear Dick another care, and done something to be more worthy of him, though it was only a little sacrifice like this.

So Geordie was a free man again, and my devoted slave from that day forth, causing much merry wonderment in the family, and actually making Dick jealous by his grateful gallantry.

My sacrifice cost me something more than the loss of my watch, however, for with a part of the money I had planned to get a fine Christmas gift for some one, and now I was obliged to content myself with such a poor little offering that the girls called me mean, and nearly broke my heart by insisting that I did not care for somebody who cared a great deal for me. I bore it all and kept Geordie's secret faithfully; but I will confess that, in a paroxysm of anger with myself, I clashed that hateful rococo watch upon the floor and trampled on it as the only adequate vent for the conflicting emotions which possessed me.

But the good fairies who fly about at Christmas time set every thing right, and broke the evil spell cast over me by the Breton magician in his gloomy cell. As we sat about the breakfast-table, talking over our gifts on the morning of that happy day, Dick and Geordie came in to see how we were after the fatigues of a grand family frolic the night before.

"Here's a new conundrum; guess it, girls," said Geordie, who had the Dundreary fever upon him just at that time. "I was sent to India and stopped there; I came back because I did not go there. Now what was it?"

We puzzled over it, but gave it up at last, and when Geordie answered, "A watch," there was a general laugh, for since my ruinous speculation that word always produced a sensation among us.

"The place mentioned should have been Brittany, not India, hey, Pen?" said Dick, with a wicked twinkle of the eye.

"Don't," I began, pathetically, as the girls giggled, and Mary added, with mock sympathy, "Hush, boys, and let that sacred sorrow be for ever hidden in Pen's own breast."

"Watch and pray, dear, watch and pray, for I'm sure you have need of both," cried Fan, seeing my rising wrath.

"Put your hands before your face but don't strike, I beg of you," cut in Geordie, trying to be witty.

"It is a sad case, but I think I have a key that will wind up the affair and set all going right," began Dick, still twinkling with fun.

To have him join the enemy was too much for me, because he had always been very careful to avoid that tender point.

"If you say another word, I'll throw the horrid thing into the fire, for I'm sick to death of hearing bad jokes made on it," I cried, feeling a strong desire to shake them all round.

"No doubt; give it to me, and you shall never see or hear of it again. I like old trinkets, and I'll never tell the story of that one, on my honor as a gentleman," said Dick, in a tone that appeased my wrath at once.

"Do you really want it?" I asked, pleased and surprised, yet still a little suspicious of some new joke.

"I do, because, although it will never go again, it will always remind me of some of the happiest hours and minutes of my life, Pen."

There was no fun in Dick's eyes as he said that, and I was glad to hide the sudden color in my cheeks by running away to get the poor old watch. But I found there was a surprise, and a very pleasant one, in store for me; for, as I thrust the shabby box into Dick's pocket, he handed me a little parcel prettily tied up with white ribbons, saying in his most captivating way, "Fair exchange is no robbery, you know, so you must take this, and then we shall be square."

"It looks like wedding cake," I said, surveying it with curiosity, and wondering why Geordie and the girls did not stop to see the mystery unfolded.

"No, that comes later, dear," answered Dick, in a tone that made me devote myself to the white ribbons with sudden zeal.

A blue velvet case appeared, and I could not resist saying, in a voice more tender than reproachful, "You extravagant man! I know it is something costly and beautiful in return for the disgracefully mean gift I gave you."

"Bless your innocent heart, did you think you could hide any thing from me? Geordie couldn't keep a secret, and I'm only paying his debt, Pen dear, with the sort of interest women like," Dick answered, with an audacious arm around my waist and a brown beard close to my cheek.

As I did not refuse the offered interest, he added, in a softer tone, "My own debt I never can settle unless with all my worldly goods I thee endow; my heart you have had for years. Say yes, dear, and be my little châtelaine."

Never mind what I said, but I assure you if it had not been for Dick's arm I should have gone under the table, when, a few minutes later, I lifted the blue velvet lid and saw a dainty watch luxuriously lying on its white satin bed.

BY THE RIVER.
A LEGEND OF THE ASSABET

CHAPTER I

In the shadow of the bridge a boy lay reading on the grass, – a slender lad, broad-browed and clear-eyed, barefooted and clad in homespun, yet happy as a king; for health sat on his sunburned cheeks, a magic book lay open before him, and sixteen years of innocence gave him a passport to the freshest pleasures life can offer.

"Nat! Nat! come here and see!" cried a shrill voice from among the alders by the river-side.

But Nat only shook his head as if a winged namesake had buzzed about his ears, and still read on. Presently a twelve-years child came scrambling up the bank, dragging a long rod behind her with a discontented air.

"I wish you'd come and help me. The fish won't bite and my line is in a grievous snarl. Don't read any more. I'm tired of playing all alone."

"I forgot you, Ruthy, and it was ill done of me. Sit here and rest while I undo the tangle," and Nat looked up good-naturedly at the small figure before him, with its quaint pinafore, checked linen gown, and buckled shoes; for this little maid lived nearly a hundred years ago and this lad had seen Washington face to face.

"Now tell me a story while I wait. Not out of that stupid play-book you are always reading, but about something that really happened, with naughty children and nice folks in it, and have it end good," said Ruth, beginning a dandelion chain; for surely it is safe to believe that our honored grandmothers enjoyed that pretty pastime in their childhood.

Nat lay in the grass, dreamily regarding the small personage who ruled him like a queen and whom he served with the devotion of a loyal heart. Now the royal command was for a story, and, stifling a sigh, this rustic gentleman closed the book, whose magic had changed the spring morning to a Midsummer Night's Dream for an hour, and set himself to gratify the little damsel's whim.

"You liked the last tale about the children who were lost. Shall I tell one about a child who was found? It really happened, and you never heard it before," he asked.

"Yes; but first put your head in my lap, for there are ants in the grass and I like to see your eyes shine when you spin stories. Tell away."

"Once upon a time there was a great snow-storm," began Nat, obediently pillowing his head on the blue pinafore.

"Whereabouts?" demanded Ruth.

"Don't spoil the story by interrupting. It was in this town, and I can show you the very house I'm going to tell about."

"I like to know things straight along, and not bounce into a snow-storm all in a minute. I'll be good. Go on."

"Well, it snowed so hard that people stayed indoors till the storm had beat and blown itself away. Right in the worst of it, as a farmer and his wife sat by the fire that night, they heard a cry at the door. You see they were sitting very still, the man smoking his pipe and the woman knitting, both thinking sorrowfully of their only son, who had just died."

"Don't have it doleful, Nat," briskly suggested Ruth, working busily while the narrator's hands lay idle, and his eyes looked as if they actually saw the little scene his fancy conjured up.

"No, I won't; only it really was like that," apologized Nat, seeing that sentiment was not likely to suit his matter-of-fact auditor. "When the cry came a second time, both of these people ran to the door. No one was to be seen, but on the wide step they saw a little mound not there an hour before. Brushing off the snow, they found a basket; and, when they opened it, there lay a little baby, who put out its arms with a pitiful cry, that went to their hearts. The woman hugged it close, fed it, and hushed it to sleep as if it had been her own. Her husband let her do as she liked, while he tried to find where it came from; but no trace appeared, and there was no name or mark on the poor thing's clothes."

"Did they keep it?" asked Ruth, tickling Nat's nose with a curly dandelion stem, to goad him on, as he lay silent for a moment.

"Yes, they kept it; for their hearts were sore and empty, and the forlorn baby seemed to fill them comfortably. The townsfolk gossiped awhile, but soon forgot it; and it grew up as if it had been born in the farmer's house. I've often wondered if it wasn't the soul of the little son who died, come back in another shape to comfort those good people."

"Now don't go wandering off, Nat; but tell me if he was a pretty, nice, smart child," said Ruth, with an eye to the hero's future capabilities.

"Not a bit pretty," laughed Nat, "for he grew up tall and thin, with big eyes and a queer brow. He wasn't 'nice,' either, if you mean good, for he got angry sometimes and was lazy; but he tried, – oh! yes, he truly tried to be a dutiful lad. He wasn't 'smart,' Ruth; for he hated to study, and only loved story books, ballads, and plays, and liked to wander round alone in the woods better than to be with other boys. People laughed at him because of his queersome ways; but he couldn't help it, – he was born so, and it would come out."

"He was what Aunt Becky calls shiftless, I guess. She says you are; but I don't mind as long as you take care of me and tell me stories."

The boy sighed and shook his head as if a whole swarm of gnats were annoying him now. "He was grateful, anyhow, this fellow I'm telling about; for he loved the good folks and worked on the farm with all his might to pay them for their pity. He never complained; but he hated it, for delving day after day in the dirt made him feel as if he was nothing but a worm."

"We are all worms," Deacon Hurd says; "so the boy needn't have minded," said Ruth, trying to assume a primly pious expression, that sat very ill upon her blooming little face.

"But some worms can turn into butterflies, if they get a chance; so the boy did mind, Ruthy." And Nat looked out into the summer world with a longing glance, which proved that he already felt conscious of the folded wings and was eager to try them.

"Was he a God-fearing boy?" asked Ruth, with a tweak of the ear; for her friend showed signs of "wandering off" again into a world where her prosaic little mind could not follow him.

"He didn't fear God; he loved Him. Perhaps it was wrong; but somehow he couldn't believe in a God of wrath when he saw how good and beautiful the world was and how kind folks were to him. He felt as if the Lord was his father, for he had no other; and when he was lonesomest that thought was right comfortable and helpful to him. Was it wrong?" asked Nat of the child.

"I'm afraid Aunt Becky would think so. She's awful pious, and boxed my ears with a psalm-book last Sabbath, when I said I wished the lions would bite Daniel in the den, I was so tired of seeing them stare and roar at him. She wouldn't let me look at the pictures in the big Bible another minute, and gave me a long hymn to learn, shut up in the back bed-room. She's a godly woman, Deacon Hurd says; but I think she's uncommon strict."

"Shall I tell any more, or are you tired of this stupid boy?" said Nat, modestly.

"Yes, you may as well finish. But do have something happen. Make him grow a great man, like Whittington, or some of the story-book folks, it's so nice to read about," answered Ruth, rather impatiently.

"I hope he did something better than trade cats and be lord mayor of London. But that part of the story hasn't come yet; so I'll tell you of two things that happened, one sad and one merry. When the boy was fourteen, the good woman died, and that nearly broke his heart; for she had made things easy for him, and he loved her dearly. The farmer sent for his sister to keep house, and then the boy found it harder than ever to bear his life; for the sister was a notable woman, well-meaning, but as strict as Aunt Becky, and she pestered the lad as Aunt pesters me. You see, Ruthy, it grew harder every year for him to work on the farm, for he longed to be away somewhere quiet among books and learned folk. He was not like those about him, and grew more unlike all the time, and people often said: 'He's come of gentle blood. That's plain to see.' He loved to think it was true, – not because he wanted to be rich and fine, but to find his own place and live the life the Lord meant him to. This feeling made him so unhappy that he was often tempted to run away, and would have done it but for the gratitude that kept him.

"Lack-a-daisy! What a bad boy, when he had good clothes and victuals and folks were clever to him! But did he ever find his grand relations?" asked Ruth, curiosity getting the better of the reproof she thought it her duty to administer.

"I don't know yet. But he did find something that made him happier and more contented. Listen now; for you'll like this part, I know. One night, as he came home with the cows, watching the pretty red in the sky, hearing the crickets chirp, and picking flowers along the way, because he liked to have 'em in his room, he felt uncommon lonesome, and kept wishing he'd meet a fairy who'd give him all he wanted. When he got to the house, he thought the fairy had really come; for there on the door-stone stood a little lass, looking at him. A right splendid little lass, Ruth, with brown hair long upon her shoulders, blue eyes full of smiles, and a face like one of the pink roses in Madam Barrett's garden."

"Did she have good clothes?" demanded Ruth, eagerly, for this part of the tale did interest her, as Nat foretold.

"Let me see. Yes, nice clothes; but sad-colored, for the riding-cloak that hung over her white dimity frock was black. Yet she stood on a pair of the trimmest feet ever seen, wearing hose with fine clocks, and silver buckles in the little shoes. You may believe the boy stared well, for he had never seen so pretty a sight in all his days, and before he knew it he had given her his nosegay of sheepsbane, fern, and honeysuckle. She took it, looking pleased, and made him as fine a courtesy as any lady; whereat he turned red and foolish, being shy, and hurried off into the barn. But she came skipping after, and peeped at him as he milked, watched how he did it for a bit, and then said, like a little queen, 'Boy, get up and let me try.' That pleased him mightily; so, taking little madam on his knee, he let her try. But something went amiss, for all at once Brindle kicked over the pail, away went the three-legged stool, and both the milkers lay in the dirt."

"Why, Nat! why, Nat! that was you and I," cried Ruth, clapping her hands delightedly, as this catastrophe confirmed the suspicions which had been growing in her mind since the appearance of the child.

"Hush! or I'll never tell how they got up," said Nat, hurrying on with a mirthful face. "The boy thought the little maid would cry over her bruised arm or go off in a pet at sight of the spoilt frock. But no; she only laughed, patted old Brindle, and sat down, saying stoutly, 'I shall try again and do it right.' So she did, and while she milked she told how she was an orphan and had come to be Uncle Dan's girl all her life. That was a pleasant hearing for the lad, and he felt as if the fairy had done better by him than he had hoped. They were friends at once, and played cat's cradle on the kitchen settle all the evening. But, when the child was put to bed in a strange room, her little heart failed her, and she fell a-sobbing for her mother. Nothing would comfort her till the boy went up and sang her to sleep, with her pretty hand in his and all her tears quite gone. That was nigh upon two years ago; but from that night they were fast friends, and happier times began for the boy, because he had something to love and live for besides work. She was very good to him, and nowhere in all the world was there a dearer, sweeter lass than Nat Snow's little maid."