University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
THE JOURNEY.

Mrs. Kennedy looked charmingly in her traveling dress
of brown, and the happy husband likened her to a Quakeress,
as he kissed her blushing cheek, and called her his
“little wife.” He had passed through the ceremony remarkably
well, standing very erect, making the responses
very loud, and squeezing very becomingly the soft white
hand on whose third finger he placed the wedding ring—a
very small one, by the way†. It was over now, and many
of the bridal guests were gone, the minister, too, had
gone, and jogging leisurely along upon his sorrel horse,
had ascertained the size of his fee, feeling a little disappointed
that it was not larger—five dollars seemed so
small, when he fully expected twenty, from one of Dr.
Kennedy's reputed wealth.

Janet had seen that every thing was done for the comfort
of the travelers, and then out behind the smokehouse
had scolded herself soundly for crying, when she ought to
appear brave, and encourage her young mistress. Not
the slightest hint had she received that she was not to
follow them in a few weeks, and when at parting little
Maude clung to her skirts, beseeching her to go, she comforted
the child by telling her what she would bring her
in the autumn, when she came. Half a dozen dolls, as
many pounds of candy, a dancing jack and a mewing kitten,
were promised, and then the faithful creature turned

to the weeping bride, who clasped her hard old hand convulsively,
for she knew it was a long good-bye. Until
the carriage disappeared from view, did Mrs. Kennedy
look back through blinding tears to the spot where Janet
stood, wiping her eyes with a corner of her stiffly starched
white apron, and holding up one foot to keep her from soiling
her clean blue cotton stockings, for, in accordance with
a superstition peculiar to her race, she had thrown after the
travelers a shoe, by way of insuring them good luck.

For once in his life, Dr. Kennedy tried to be very kind
and attentive to his bride, who, naturally hopeful and inclined
to look upon the brighter side, dried her tears soon
after entering the cars, and began to fancy she was very
happy in her new position as the wife of Dr. Kennedy.
The seat in front of them was turned back and occupied
by Maude, who busied herself awhile in watching the
fence and the trees, which she said were “running so fast
toward Janet and home!” Then her dark eyes would
scan curiously the faces of Dr. Kennedy and her mother,
resting upon the latter with a puzzled expression, as if she
could not exactly understand it. The doctor persisted in
calling her Matilda, and as she resolutely persisted in refusing
to answer to that name, it seemed quite improbable
that they would ever talk much together. Occasionally,
it is true, he made her some advances, by playfully offering
her his hand, but she would not touch it, and after a
time, standing upon the seat and turning round, she found
more agreeable society in the company of two school-boys
who sat directly behind her.

They were evidently twelve or thirteen years of age,
and in personal appearance somewhat alike, save that the
face of the brown-haired boy was more open, ingenuous,

and pleasing than that of his companion, whose hair and
eyes were black as night. A jolt of the cars caused
Maude to lay her chubby hand upon the shoulder of the
elder boy, who, being very fond of children, caught it
within his own, and in this way made her acquaintance.
To him she was very communicative, and in a short time
he learned that “her name was Maude Remington, that
the pretty lady in brown was her mother, and that the
naughty man was not her father, and never would be, for
Janet said so.”

This at once awakened an interest in the boys, and for
more than an hour they petted and played with the little
girl, who, though very gracious to both, still manifested
so much preference for the brown-haired, that the other
laughingly asked her which she liked the best.

“I like you and you,” was Maude's childlike answer,
as she pointed a finger at each.

“But,” persisted her questioner, “you like my cousin
the best. Will you tell me why?”

Maude hesitated a moment, then laying a hand on
either side of the speaker's face, and looking intently
into his eyes, she answered, “You don't look as if you
meant for certain, and he does!”

Had Maude Remington been twenty instead of five, she
could not better have defined the difference between
those two young lads, and in after-years she had sad
cause for remembering words which seemed almost prophetic.
At Albany they parted company, for though the
boys lived in Rochester, they were to remain in the city
through the night, and Dr. Kennedy had decided to go
on. By doing so, he would reach home near the close of
the next day, beside saving a large hotel bill, and this

last was with him a very weighty reason. But he did not
say so to his wife; neither did he tell her that he had left
orders for his carriage to be in Canandaigua on the arrival
of the noon train, but he said “he was in haste to
show her to his daughter—that 'twas a maxim of his to
save as much time as possible, and that unless she were
very anxious to sleep, he would rather travel all night.”
So the poor, weary woman, whose head was aching terribly,
smiled faintly upon him as she said, “Go on, of
course,” and nibbled at the hard seed-cakes and harder
crackers which he brought her, there not being time for
supper in Albany.

It was a long, tedious ride, and though a strong arm
was thrown around her, and her head was pillowed upon
the bosom of her husband, who really tried to make her
as comfortable as possible, Mrs. Kennedy could scarcely
refrain from tears as she thought how different was this
bridal tour from what she had anticipated. She had fully
expected to pass by daylight through the Empire State,
and she had thought with how much delight her eye
would rest upon the grassy meadows, the fertile plains, the
winding Mohawk, the drone-like boats on the canal, the
beautiful Cayuga, and the silvery water so famed in song;
but, in contrast to all this, she was shut up in a dingy car,
whose one dim lamp sent forth a sickly ray and sicklier
smell, while without, all was gloomy, dark, and drear. No
wonder, then, that when toward morning Maude, who
missed her soft, nice bed, began to cry for Janet and for
home, the mother too burst forth in tears and choking sobs,
which could not be controlled.

“Hush, Matty—don't,” and the disturbed doctor shook
her very gently; “it will soon be daylight, and 'tis a max”

—here he stopped, for he had no maxim suited to that occasion,
and, in a most unenviable frame of mind, he frowned
at the crying Maude, and tried to soothe his weeping wife,
until at last, as the face of the latter was covered, and the
former grew more noisy and unmanageable, he administered
a fatherly rebuke in the shape of a boxed ear, which had
no other effect than the eliciting from the child the outcry,
“Let me be, old doctor, you!” if, indeed, we except
the long scratch made upon his hand by the little sharp
nail of his step-daughter.

At that moment Matty lifted up her head, but as Maude
was no tale-bearer, and the doctor hardly dared to tell her
that he had thus early taken upon himself the government
of her child, she never knew exactly what it was which
made Maude's ear so red or her liege lord's face so dark.

It was nearly noon when they arrived at Canandaigua,
where the first object which caught Mrs. Kennedy's eye
was an old-fashioned carry-all, which her husband honored
with the appellation of carriage, said carriage being drawn
by two farm-horses, which looked as if oats and corn were
to them luxuries unknown.

“I must have a cup of tea,” said Mrs. Kennedy, as she
saw the black man, John, arranging the baggage upon the
rack of the carry-all, and heard her husband bid him
hurry, as there was no time to lose. “I must have a cup
of tea, my head is aching dreadfully,” and her white lips
quivered, while the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Certainly, certainly,” answered the doctor, who was
in unusually good spirits, having just heard from an acquaintance
whom he chanced to meet, that a law-suit,
which had long been pending, was decided it his favor,
and that the house and lot of a widow would probably

come into his possession. “Certainly, two cups if you
like; I should have proposed it myself only I knew old
Hannah would have dinner in readiness for us, and 'tis a
maxim of mine, that fasting provokes an appetite.”

“Hang dis nigger, if he aint a maxin' her so quick!”
muttered the darkey, showing his teeth from ear to ear,
and coaxing Maude away from her mother, he took her to
a restaurant, where he literally crammed her with gingerbread,
raisins, and candy, bidding her eat all she wanted
at once, for it would be a long time maybe ere she'd have
another chance!

“If you please, sar,” he said, when at last he had returned
to his master, “if you please, Miss Nellie, say how
you must fotch her somethin', and the old woman spec's
a present in honor of de 'casion.”

Dr. Kennedy thought of the law-suit, and so far opened
both heart and purse as to buy for Nellie a paper of peanuts,
and for Hannah a ten-cent calico apron, after which,
he pronounced himself in readiness to go, and in a few
moments Mrs. Kennedy was on her way to her new
home.

The road led over rocky hills, reminding her so much of
Vernon and its surrounding country, that a feeling of rest
stole over her and she fell into a quiet sleep, from which
she did not awaken until the carriage stopped suddenly
and her husband whispered in her ear, “Wake, Matty,
wake, we are home at last.”