 | XIII.
THE VISIT AND THE EXCURSION. Neighbor Jackwood |  |
13. XIII.
THE VISIT AND THE EXCURSION.
The next morning, Abimelech Jackwood the younger made
an early call at Mr. Dunbury's house. He found the family at
breakfast.
“Good-morning, sir!” cried Hector. “Corny, give the young
gentleman a seat.”
“Can't stop!” said Bim, standing bashfully in the door. “I
come over to see — git out, Rover! — if Charlotte don't wanter
go up on the hill to-day, with Pheeb.”
A gleam of hope shone upon Charlotte's heart.
“To see Bertha Wing?”
“Yes, I b'lieve so. — Here, Rove! lay down! — Pheeb 's ben
lottin' on an all-day visit up there, 's ever s' long, and she said you
'greed to go with her.”
“But you are so poorly this morning, Charlotte!” said Mrs.
Dunbury. “Conscientiously as you have endeavored to eat, you
have scarce tasted a morsel.”
Hector: “And we are to have company, you remember.”
“But I,” said Charlotte, quickly, — “I would prefer not to
meet strangers. I would enjoy the ride, and a quiet visit with
Phœbe and Bertha —”
Mrs. Dunbury: “Do as you please, then.”
Charlotte glanced at Hector. His countenance was overcast,
but he raised no further objection to the plan; and accordingly
word was sent back that she would accompany Phœbe.
Miss Jackwood made her appearance in the one-horse wagon,
at about nine o'clock. She drove old Dan, — quite a conservative
and phlegmatic nag, — whom she found it necessary continually
within speaking distance of Mr. Dunbury's gate, the sober animal
came to a dead halt. “Go 'long!” ejaculated Phœbe.
Dan did not stir. Mortified at the awkwardness of the circumstance,
occurring at a moment when she so much desired to make
a smart appearance, she wielded the whip vigorously.
The first blow fell short; the second raised a dust on the
horse's rump, and the third made him whisk his tail a little.
After that, she bent forward, and laid on and spared not, until,
starting on with a groan, he stopped before the gate.
The delay had given Charlotte time to put on her bonnet, and
she now came out, ready for the ride.
“I was afraid you would n't go,” said Phœbe; “but I was
feeling so vexed about the wedding, last night, I meant to make a
visit somewhere, to-day, any way. Bim said you expected company.
Who 's coming?”
“Mr. Greenwich, I think.”
“Not Robert? Has he got home? I should think you 'd like
to stay! I 'll stay with you, and make you a visit, to-day, if you
want me to. Or, I 'll tell you what! have Robert and Hector
come up and take tea with us! — You tell 'em, Mrs. Dunbury! —
I bet they will! Won't it be grand?”
How pale Charlotte looked!
“Don't forget, Mrs. Dunbury! — Go 'long, ol' Dan! — I 'm
ashamed of my driving! The calves chawed the whip to pieces,
t' other night, and this is all there is left of it; and Dan 's the
laziest horse! — Come, do step! — If Mr. and Mrs. Charles Creston
git invited to my wedding, I guess they 'll know it! I 'll let
'em understand one thing — I don't care if I was n't asked: it
han't hurt me a bit; for I don't consider it anything worth minding
at all!”
Phœbe seemed so desirous of enforcing this fact upon her companion's
mind, that she never ceased to chatter about it, until
they had made the ascent of the hill, and arrived at Mr. Wing's
house. Charlotte liked that topic as well as any; all she wished
was, that Phœbe should do the talking, and leave her to her own
thoughts.
Bertha received her visitors cordially; grandmother Wing
joining to give them a hearty welcome.
“Why, how you have altered!” said the old lady, with smiling
good-nature, to Charlotte. “You 've smarted up amazin', I
do declare! I knowed 't was in ye to do it, when I spoke for
you to Hector; but, re'ly, I 'm the least mite took back to see you
lookin' so very nice an' handsome!”
Phœbe had brought her knitting; Charlotte had some sewing;
and all settled quietly down, to work, and talk, and visit, until
near dinner-time, when Bertha went out to assist the kitchen-girl,
and to give the finishing touch to the table.
Just as they were sitting down to the noon-day meal, Mr.
Rukely called, and sat down with them. Mr. Wing was also
present, — a man of solemn aspect and stiff opinions, of whom
Bertha stood very much in awe.
The dinner was a prim and formal affair; everybody silent or
restrained, as was to be expected; only the old lady indulging in
a little geniality, while Phœbe now and then burst forth with
some refreshingly spontaneous remark.
“O dear!” exclaimed the young girl, after dinner, “I 'm so
tired of behaving well! Do le's have some fun! Mr. Rukely
will excuse us.”
Mr. Rukely, turning over the leaves of an annual: “O, certainly.”
Bertha: “What do you want to do?”
Phœbe, throwing down her knitting: “I don't care what; but
I shall die if I don't do something! Come, le's make cheeses!”
Bertha, blushing and shaking her head: “'Sh! Not before
him!”
Charlotte: “If we take a walk, perhaps Mr. Rukely will accompany
us.”
Mr. Rukely: “With pleasure.”
Phœbe: “Hurra!”
Bertha: “We 'll want our bonnets, girls.”
Phœbe: “I 'm glad you spoke, for I don't know half what I
am about! May we be wild, Mr. Rukely?”
Mr. Rukely, indulgently: “As wild as you please.”
Phœbe: “That 's good! When we get out of sight and hearing
once, if I don't scream! Which way are you going?”
Mr. Rukely: “Shall we take the road?”
Charlotte: “The woods will be pleasanter; the road is too
tame.”
Phœbe: “O, yes! we can chase and romp in the woods, and
have such a slick time! Mr. Rukely will let down the bars for
us. What do you say, Bertha?”
Bertha: “Any way will suit me. Only don't be too rude,” —
aside to Phœbe, — “for I don't know just what he will think.”
Phœbe, recklessly: “Come on! I 'll be cap'n! How good it
feels ou' doors! I want to fly! Let 's go 'way off on the mountain,
and look down towards our house. I wish Hector and Rob
Greenwich was here! don't you, girls? If we had a spying-glass
we might see 'em! It 's so mean I wan't invited to the wedding!
but I 'm glad of it! Don't let 's go through the briers.”
Bertha: “There 's a path somewhere. O, here it is! 'T will
take us right to the cedar woods.”
Phœbe ran on before, talking gayly. Suddenly she flew back,
with terrified cries.
Bertha: “Why, what — what is it?”
Phœbe, shudderingly: “Ugh-h-h-h! A gr-e-a-t bi-i-ig sna-a-ake!”
Mr. Rukely, smiling: “You should learn to overcome the
serpent.” Taking up a stick: “Where is he?”
Phœbe: “It was crawling off from the log. I should think it
was forty or fifty feet long!”
Bertha: “Don't go near it!”
Mr. Rukely: “The serpent is the only living thing I feel in
duty bound to hate, abhor, and kill!”
He advanced resolutely. Charlotte turned and looked off on
the mountain side. Bertha watched her lover tremblingly, while
Phœbe stood ready to run and scream.
Mr. Rukely paused, lowering his stick; the sternness of his
features relaxed into a somewhat pallid smile, and he called his
companions to advance.
Phœbe: “Is it gone?”
Bertha: “Have you killed it?”
Mr. Rukely lifted something with his stick. Bertha and Phœbe
shrieked simultaneously. Charlotte still looked away.
Mr. Rukely: “I did not know before that log-chains were so
formidable!” He dropped the clinking links upon the ground.
Bertha drew a long breath, and tried to laugh.
Phœbe, excited: “But there was a snake; I declare I saw
one! I 'm as sure it moved as I am that I stand here? O,
dear!” she added, as the party proceeded further into the woods,
“what did we come in here for? These cedars are such hateful
things!”
Charlotte: “I think they are beautiful. I love the gloom.”
Bertha: “I hope you don't love the mosquitos! I am eaten
up by them!”
Mr. Rukely: “It seems to me we are going into a swamp.
The air is close and sultry. Shall we turn about?”
Bertha: “There 's an ox-path, somewhere, that branches off
towards the fields. I believe this is it, though it looks dreadfully
wild and lonely!”
Phœbe: “It seems like Sunday, in here! Let 's get out of it!
Mercy! how I am bitten! O, what noise was that? Seeing
that horrid snake makes me nervous as I can be! Every stick is
a snake, now; and I have heard a dozen wild-cats since we came
in here. You go ahead, Mr. Rukely. We 'll follow, if it is to
the jumping-off place!”
The party came out upon a high pasture-land. Further on was
a deep gulf, defended by impenetrable thick growths of bristling
poplars and young spruces, and overhung by a precipitous crag.
Phœbe: “Hurra for a climb, I say! We can see all over
creation from up there. Who 'll be at the top first?”
Mr. Rukely and Bertha recoiled from the enterprise; but Charlotte,
eager to lose herself in any excitement, seconded Phœbe,
and the party made the ascent of the crag.
Bertha: “All this part of the mountain was overrun by fire, a
few years ago. These rocks were singed, as if for our especial
benefit. Look off in the valley now.”
Charlotte: “Wonderful!”
Phœbe: “I can see our house; and there 's Bim driving the
cows to water! They look like so many black ants, and he like a
little red one!”
Mr. Rukely: “The season has been so dry that the country has
lost half its beauty. How dead the forests down there appear!
Besides, there is too much smoke in the air to-day.”
Charlotte: “The smoke has a beauty of its own. It gives
such a soft blue tint to everything! How still and sweet the valley
lies, in the dim sunshine! The smoke is the soul of the landscape
to-day.”
Bertha: “What a ghastly sky! The sun is blood-red. Was
that thunder?”
Mr. Rukely: “I see no clouds. Perhaps the money-diggers
are blasting again on the Eagle Rocks.”
Phœbe: “I thought I saw Rob Greenwich and Hector; but it
is only a couple of horses fighting flies by the fence. Let 's roll
down rocks. Here goes one!” The missile dropped from ledge
to ledge, and leaped among the crackling thickets below. “Did
you hear it? O, Mr. Rukely, help me tumble off this big one!
Where 's a pry?” picking up a charred sapling. “There, I 've
got my hands all black! Never mind. Give me a lift!”
Mr. Rukely condescended, and a minute later the loosened rock,
toppling on the verge of the cliff, turned lazily at first, then rolled,
then bounded, then thundered and plunged, snapping and trampling
the brittle poplars, until the noise of its crashing died away
in the depths of the gulf.
There was something startling in this invasion of Nature's
solitudes with violence and unusual sounds. Phœbe, excited by
the sport, detained Mr. Rukely, to set off another flying rock,
while Charlotte and Bertha found an easy place of descent, and
went down from the crag.
“I hear the trickling of water,” said Charlotte; “but we can
neither reach it nor see it, for the thickets. I am thirsty, and my
forehead and hands are parching.”
“The gulf opens below here,” replied Bertha, “and a brook
runs out into the maple grove, down yonder. Hark! There goes
another stone!”
“Happy Phœbe! see her clap her hands, on the ledge!”
“But, while she laughs, you only sigh, Charlotte. And I sympathize
most with you. How I have wanted to be your friend,
and to have you mine! Let us go down into the ravine, here, and
be true and free with each other once.”
“They are coming!”
“We will hide away from them. O, see where the brook drips
over the rocks! How cool it is down there! If we can get
through the bushes —”
“We can,” said Charlotte. “Here is an opening.”
“You will fall!” cried Bertha. “Let me hold your hand
until you get your foot firmly upon the rock. I 've torn my
dress; but we are through the worst of it now. What delicious
beds of moss! The brook is almost dry, and we can go down
these rocky steps until we come to the grove.”
“Let us sit here, and rest, and bathe our foreheads,” replied
Charlotte.
“Let me bathe yours for you! But it is not bathing that will
cure the pain. There is a fever which only tears can cool. I
know from experience.”
“You, Bertha? You, so fortunate and happy!”
“O, Charlotte, you do not know me! Fortunate and happy —
with this weak, inconsistent heart of mine! Dear, dear, dear!”
“Hark! Phœbe is calling us,” said Charlotte.
“Do not answer. It is a relief to get away from them for a
little while. I want to talk with you.”
“My head feels better. How kind you are, Bertha! There is
a magnetism in your hand, that removes the pain.”
“It is your tears,” said Bertha. “O, if I could be your
friend!”
“Bertha, good Bertha — I have not a friend in this wide, wide
world! I know not one, not one whom I can trust.”
“Not even me!” said Bertha.
Her sympathy wrought powerfully upon Charlotte, who opened
her heart to her more and more, and appeared almost ready to
pour out to her the whole history of her life.
Mr. Rukely, from above: “You are pretty truants! We have
called and hunted for you everywhere. It is going to rain.”
Bertha: “Will you share our shelter with us?”
Phœbe: “O le's! I want to wash the crock off my hands.”
Mr. Rukely: “You are responsible if we get wet.”
Bertha: “We can go down through the maple grove, then
return home by the lower pasture, and avoid the swamp.”
Phœbe: “And the mosquitos and snakes! So le's!”
“Another time,” whispered Bertha, pressing Charlotte's hand.
The party descended through the ravine, stepping upon decayed
logs, mossy banks and stones, and rocks encrusted with dry slime.
At length the bushes and saplings gave place to the tall trunks of
maples and beeches, and, in a convenient spot, they climbed up into
the grove.
“Why, how dark it is!” cried Phœbe. “O, come here! see
through the trees! What a frightful cloud! Don't it look awful
through the smoke! I 'm glad I an't a Millerite! Did you hear
that gun?”
Mr. Rukely: “There 's somebody hunting, just over the hill.”
Phœbe: “I should n't wonder if 't was Robert and Hector.
Wait, while I screech!”
Charlotte, eagerly: “Don't, don't, Phœbe! Keep still!”
“Why?”
“Because, we 'll spoil their sport. Besides, I — I don't think
it can be Hector. He never shoots.”
“He used to, and I bet he would n't object, if Rob Greenwich
should coax him! Rob used to be crazy about hunting, and the
squirrels are thick now.”
Bertha: “It will do no harm to shout.”
“No, no, Bertha! Let us go back. The darkness frightens
me.” And Charlotte set out to fly from the grove.
Phœbe: “Here! where are you going? That an't the way.”
“Tell me, then. Let us hasten! The storm will be upon us!”
Mr. Rukely: “We shall get wet, most certainly. What is
that? A shantee?”
Bertha: “It is a shelter for the men when they work in the
sugar-bush. There 's the great through, and the arch for boiling.
Shall we go in and wait till the shower passes?”
The proposition was favorably received by all except Charlotte.
rain-drops began to fall, rattling and hissing among the leaves.
Phœbe ran screaming to the shantee, swinging her bonnet in her
hand.
“Come, Charlotte,” said Bertha. “Why are you afraid? The
shower will soon pass; then we will go home together.”
“Well, as you please.”
“I know now what troubles you, Charlotte. It is what I
feared for you. It was almost inevitable. Everybody loves him.”
“What do you mean?”
“His voice, his manner, the clear splendor of his face,” said
Bertha, with a swelling heart; “everything about him fascinates!
I pity you!”
“I do not understand — you are speaking of —”
“Hector!”
“From your own experience?” said Charlotte, with feverish
interest.
“O, no, — not much! I have known him all my life. I do
not think he is a flirt, but he is peculiar; he loves to exert his
power, and it is his way to say, and do, and look, the most winning
things, without really meaning them. That 's the danger.
Then, he is so fitful! He keeps one always in suspense. Let me
warn you in season.”
“There is no need. He is nothing to me, nor ever can be,
Bertha. But I thank you for your kind advice, the same.”
“There was another gun,” cried Bertha, “nearer than before!
Let us run. See! Mr. Rukely and Phœbe are already in the
cabin.”
Charlotte glanced wildly in the direction of the report. At
that moment a sudden lightning-flash filled all the woods with an
instantaneous fearful glare, and the bursting thunder followed,
crashing down the sky, and tumbling from height to height along
the mountain range.
| XIII.
THE VISIT AND THE EXCURSION. Neighbor Jackwood | |