University of Virginia Library

25. CHAPTER XXV.
MAN VERSUS DOG.

Mr. Burroughs staid to tea, and, while it was being prepared,
strolled with Karl about the little farm; looked at the
Alderney cow, the Suffolk pigs, the span of Morgan horses
named Pope and Pagan; quietly sounded the depths of Capt.
Karl's open and joyous nature, and made him talk of his
cousin Dora, and reveal his love and his hopes regarding
her.

“They will marry out there, and she will manage him,
and make him very happy,” thought Mr. Burroughs, returning
toward the farmhouse, and admiring the long slope of
the mossy roof, and the clinging masses of woodbine creeping
to the ridge-pole.

“You won't make so picturesque a thing of your new
home for several years to come, if ever, Mr. Windsor,”
added he aloud.

“No, I suppose not; but the genius of our people is more

for beginning than ending, and this old place was built by
my grandfather,” said the young man.

“An excellent and most American reason for deserting
it,” said Mr. Burroughs gravely; “and, if you are thinking
of selling, I should like the opportunity of becoming purchaser.
This sort of thing is going out of the market, and
I should like to secure a specimen before it is too late. It is
all the same as a picture, except that it is stationary, and
one must come to it instead of carrying it away in triumph.”

“I think we may like to sell; but I must consult my sister
and cousin first,” said Karl rather gravely: for, after all, he
did not just like the tone assumed by this fine city gentleman
in speaking of the place that had been a home to Karl
and his ancestors for more than a century. The quick tact
of the lawyer perceived the slight wound he had given, and
repaired it by carelessly saying, —

“And, besides the beauty of the place, I should be proud
of possessing any thing that had belonged to a grandfather.
My family has been so migratory, that I can hardly say
whether I had a grandfather or not: certainly I have not
the remotest idea where he lived.”

Capt. Karl laughed.

“Our family has been settled here since the days of the

Pilgrims,” said he; “and Kitty could show you a family
chart as large as a table-cloth, of which she is mightily
proud, although I never could see any particular benefit it
has been to us.”

“And Miss Dora — is she fond of recalling her ancestors
and their fame? or is she satisfied with her own?” asked
Mr. Burroughs.

“I don't believe it ever occurred to her that either she or
they deserved any,” said Karl, laughing. “You never knew
a creature so entirely simple and self-forgetful in your life,
and yet of so wide and noble a nature. She is never so
happy as in doing good to other people.”

“But likes to do it in her own way?” suggested the lawyer
pleasantly.

“Likes to do it in the best way, and her own way is sure
to be that,” replied Karl somewhat decidedly; and Mr.
Burroughs smiled and bowed.

In the doorway, under the swinging branch of the tall
sweetbrier, suddenly appeared Kitty, her brown face becomingly
flushed, and the buttons of her under-sleeves not yet
adjusted.

“Tea is ready; will you please to walk in, Mr. Burroughs?”
said she: and the guest followed, well pleased, to

the wide, cool kitchen, with its white, scoured floor, its vine-shaded
windows and open door giving a view of broad
meadow-lands, with a brook curling crisply through them,
and a dark pine-wood beyond. In the centre stood the neat
tea-table, with its country dainties of rich cream, yellow
butter, custards, ripe peaches sliced and served with sugar,
buttermilk-biscuit, and the fresh sponge-cake, on which Kitty
justly prided herself.

“You see we are plain country-folks, and eat in the
kitchen, Mr. Burroughs,” said she, with a little laugh, as
they seated themselves.

“Is this room called a kitchen? You amuse yourself
by jesting with my ignorance,” said Mr. Burroughs, looking
about him with affected simplicity. “If ever I should live
here, I would call this the refreshing-room; for I can imagine
nothing more soothing to eyes weary of a summer sun than
these vine-covered windows, and the cool greens of that
meadow and the pine-forest beyond.”

Kitty smiled a little vaguely, half inclined to insist upon the
kitchen-side of the question; when Karl asked, in a disappointed
tone, —

“Where is Dora? Isn't she coming?”

“Not yet. Molly waked up, and Dora is giving her some

supper. She said she would come as soon as she had done.
You didn't know, Mr. Burroughs, that Dora has an adopted
child, did you?”

“No, indeed. She is young to undertake such responsibility,”
said Mr. Burroughs a little curiously.

“This is a little foreigner too, that Dora picked up in the
road. No one knows who she may be, or what dreadful
people may come after her any day. Dora is so queer!”

“Will you have a biscuit, Kitty? Mr. Burroughs, let
me give you some of this peach? We shall be sorry to
leave our peach-orchard behind in going to the West. I
suppose, however, one can soon be started there.”

And Karl, determined not to allow Kitty the chance of
making any of her spiteful little speeches about Dora in
presence of the visitor, kept the conversation upon purely
impersonal topics, until they rose from table, and the two
gentlemen strolled out upon the porch at the western door;
while Kitty ran up to call Dora, whom she found sitting
beside the bed, with Sunshine's head lying upon her arm.

“Isn't she asleep?” whispered Kitty.

The child half opened her eyes, and murmured drowsily, —

“I want to ride on the elephant. It's my little wife.”

“What did she say, Dora?”

“Hush! She is out of her head, I think. She has
been saying I was her little wife,” whispered Dora.

“Well, that's English, anyway,” replied Kitty, staring
at the child. “What do you suppose she is?”

“I don't know. There, pet, there! Hus—h!” As she
spoke, Dora carefully withdrew her arm from under the
little head, where, in the August night, the hair clung in
moist golden spirals, and a soft dew stood upon the white
forehead.

“I'll stay and fan her for a while longer, she looks so
warm,” whispered Dora.

“No, no! come down and eat your supper, and help
clear away. Charley asked Mr. Burroughs to stay all
night, and I guess he will. Isn't he real splendid? Come
down, and talk about him.”

Sunshine slept soundly; and Dora, half reluctantly, suffered
herself to be led away by her cousin, closing the door
softly behind her, and leaving the little child to dreams of
a home so far away, and yet so near; of a vanished past,
that, even in this moment, stretched a detaining hand from
out the darkness, groping for her own; of human love
immortal as heaven, and yet, for the moment, less trustworthy
than the instinct of the brutes: for if Mr. Thomas

Burroughs, instead of being a highly cultivated and intellectual
man, had been a dog of only average intelligence,
'Toinette Legrange would already have been discovered,
and, before another sunset, the slow agony devouring her
mother's heart would have been relieved.

But to each of us our gifts; and Mr. Burroughs, never
suspecting how deficient were his own, strolled with his
host beneath the trees, until the appearance of the young
ladies upon the porch; when he joined them, and resumed
his conversation with Dora. From army matters, the talk
soon wandered to the new prospects of Col. Blank's
heiress; and Mr. Burroughs found himself first amused,
then animated and interested, quite beyond his wont, in the
young girl's plans and expectations.

It was late when the party separated; and as the guest
closed the door of the rosy-room, and cast an admiring
glance over its neat appointments, he muttered to himself, —

“What a bright, fresh little room! and what a brighter,
fresher little girl! — as different from thy city friends, Tom
Burroughs, as the cream she pours is from the chalky composition
of the hotels. Thou dost half persuade me to turn
Hoosier, and help thee convert the wilderness to a blooming
garden, O darlingest of Darlings!”

And as the young man, with a half-smile upon his lips,
set sail for the vague and beautiful shores of Dreamland, a
bright, sweet face, lighted by two earnest eyes, seemed to
herald him the way, and join itself to all his fairest fancies.