Queechy Volume I Part 13

"I don't know," said Fleda. "I hope not. I think it is very ugly."

"Do you? Oh! I admire it. It makes a man look so spry!"

A few hundred yards from Mr. Ringgan's gate the road began to wind up a very long heavy hill. Just at the hill's foot, it crossed by a rude bridge the bed of a noisy brook that came roaring down from the higher grounds turning sundry mill and factory wheels in its way. About half-way up the hill one of these was placed, belonging to a mill for sawing boards. The little building stood alone, no other in sight, with a dark background of wood rising behind it on the other side of the brook; the stream itself running smoothly for a small s.p.a.ce above the mill, and leaping down madly below, as if it disdained its bed, and would clear at a bound every impediment in its way to the sea. When the mill was not going, the quant.i.ty of water that found its way down the hill was indeed very small, enough only to keep up a pleasant chattering with the stones; but as soon as the stream was allowed to gather all its force and run free, its loquacity was such that it would prevent a traveller from suspecting his approach to the mill, until, very near, the monotonous hum of its saw could be heard. This was a place Fleda dearly loved. The wild sound of the waters, and the lonely keeping of the scene, with the delicious smell of the new-sawn boards, and the fascination of seeing the great logs of wood walk up to the relentless, tireless, up-and-down-going steel; as the generations of men in turn present themselves to the course of those sharp events which are the teeth of Time's saw; until all of a sudden the master spirit, the man regulator of this machinery, would perform some conjuration on lever and wheel, and at once, as at the touch of an enchanter, the log would be still and the saw stay its work; the business of life came to a stand, and the romance of the little brook sprang up again. Fleda never tired of it ? never. She would watch the saw play and stop, and go on again; she would have her ears dinned with the hoa.r.s.e clang of the machinery, and then listen to the laugh of the mill-stream; she would see with untiring patience one board after another cut and cast aside, and log succeed to log; and never turned weary away from that mysterious image of Time's doings. Fleda had, besides, without knowing it, the eye of a painter. In the lonely hill-side, the odd-shaped little mill, with its accompaniments of wood and water, and the great logs of timber lying about the ground in all directions and varieties of position, there was a picturesque charm for her, where the country people saw nothing but business and a place fit for it. Their hands grew hard where her mind was refining.

Where they made dollars and cents, she was growing rich in stores of thought and a.s.sociations of beauty. How many purposes the same thing serves!

"That had ought to be your grandpa's mill this minute,"

observed Cynthy.

"I wish it was!" sighed Fleda. "Who's got it now, Cynthy?"

"O, it's that chap McGowan, I expect; he's got pretty much the hull of everything. I told Mr. Ringgan I wouldn't let him have it if it was me, at the time. Your grandpa 'd be glad to get it back now, I guess."

Fleda guessed so too; but also guessed that Miss Gall was probably very far from being possessed of the whole rationale of the matter. So she made her no answer.

After reaching the brow of the hill, the road continued on a very gentle ascent towards a little settlement half a quarter of a mile off; pa.s.sing, now and then, a few scattered cottages, or an occasional mill or turner's shop. Several mills and factories, with a store and a very few dwelling- houses, were all the settlement; not enough to ent.i.tle it to the name of a village. Beyond these and the millponds, of which in the course of the road there were three or four, and with a brief intervening s.p.a.ce of cultivated fields, a single farmhouse stood alone; just upon the borders of a large and very fair sheet of water, from which all the others had their supply; so large and fair, that n.o.body cavilled at its taking the style of a lake, and giving its own pretty name of Deepwater both to the settlement and the farm that half embraced it. This farm was Seth Plumfield's.

At the garden gate Fleda quitted Cynthy, and rushed forward to meet her aunt, whom she saw coming round the corner of the house, with her gown pinned up behind her, from attending to some domestic concern among the pigs, the cows, or the poultry.

"O, aunt Miriam," said Fleda, eagerly, "we are going to have company to tea to-morrow ? wont you come and help us?"

Aunt Miriam laid her hands upon Fleda's shoulders, and looked at Cynthy.

"I came up to see if you wouldn't come down to-morrow, Mis'

Plumfield," said that personage, with her usual dry, business tone, always a little on the wrong side of sweet; "your brother has taken a notion to ask two young fellers from the Pool to supper, and they're grand folks, I s'pose, and have got to have a fuss made for 'em. I don't know what Mr. Ringgan was thinkin' of, or whether he thinks I have got anything to do or not; but anyhow, they're a comin', I s'pose, and must have somethin' to eat; and I thought the best thing I could do would be to come and get you into the works, if I could. I should feel a little queer to have n.o.body but me to say nothin' to them at the table."

"Ah, do come, aunt Miriam!" said Fleda; "it will be twice as pleasant if you do; and besides, we want to have everything very nice, you know."

Aunt Miriam smiled at Fleda, and inquired of Miss Gall what she had in the house.

"Why, I don't know, Mis' Plumfield," said the lady, while Fleda threw her arms round her aunt, and thanked her; "there ain't nothin' particler ? pork and beef, and the old story.

I've got some first-rate pickles. I calculated to make some sort o' cake in the morning."

"Any of those small hams left?"

"Not a bone of 'em, these six weeks. _I_ don't see how they've gone, for my part. I'd lay any wager there were two in the smoke-house when I took the last one out. If Mr. Didenhover was a little more like a weasel I should think he'd been in."

"Have you cooked that roaster I sent down."

"No, Mis' Plumfield, I ha'n't; it's such a plaguy sight of trouble!" said Cynthy, with a little apologetic giggle; "I was keepin' it for some day when I hadn't much to do."

"I'll take the trouble of it. l'll be down bright and early in the morning, and we'll see what's best to do. How's your last churning, Cynthy?"

"Well, I guess it's pretty middlin', Mis' Plumfield."

" 'T isn't anything very remarkable, aunt Miriam," said Fleda, shaking her head.

"Well, well," said Mrs. Plumfield, smiling; "run away down home now, and I'll come to-morrow, and I guess we'll fix it.

But who is it that grandpa has asked?"

Fleda and Cynthy both opened at once.

"One of them is my cousin, aunt Miriam, that was at West Point, and the other is the nicest English gentleman you ever saw; you will like him very much; he has been with me getting nuts all to-day."

"They're a smart enough couple of chaps," said Cynthia; "they look as if they lived where money was plenty."

"Well, I'll come to-morrow," repeated Mrs. Plumfield, "and we'll see about it. Good night, dear!"

She took Fleda's head in both her hands, and gave her a most affectionate kiss; and the two pet.i.tioners set off homewards again.

Aunt Miriam was not at all like her brother, in feature, though the moral characteristics suited the relationship sufficiently well. There was the expression of strong sense and great benevolence; the unbending uprightness of mind and body at once; and the dignity of an essentially n.o.ble character, not the same as Mr. Ringgan's, but such as well became his sister. She had been brought up among the Quakers, and though now, and for many years, a staunch Presbyterian, she still retained a tincture of the calm efficient gentleness of mind and manner that belongs so inexplicably to them. More womanly sweetness than was in Mr. Ringgan's blue eye, a woman need not wish to have; and perhaps his sister's had not so much. There was no want of it in her heart, nor in her manner, but the many and singular excellences of her character were a little overshadowed by super-excellent housekeeping. Not a taint of the littleness that sometimes grows therefrom, ? not a trace of the narrowness of mind that over-attention to such pursuits is too apt to bring; ? on every important occasion aunt Miriam would come out, free and unshackled, from all the cobweb entanglements of housewifery; she would have tossed housewifery to the winds, if need were, (but it never was, for in a new sense she always contrived to make both ends meet).

It was only in the unbroken everyday course of affairs that aunt Miriam's face showed any tokens of that incessant train of _small cares_ which had never left their impertinent footprints upon the broad high brow of her brother. Mr.

Ringgan had no affinity with small cares; deep serious matters received his deep and serious consideration; but he had as dignified a disdain of trifling annoyances or concernments as any great mastiff or Newfoundlander ever had for the yelping of a little cur.

CHAPTER V.

Ynne London citye was I borne, Of parents of grete note; My fadre dydd a n.o.bile arms Emblazon onne hys cote.

CHATTERTON.

In the snuggest and best private room of the House at Montepoole, a party of ladies and gentlemen were gathered, awaiting the return of the sportsmen. The room had been made as comfortable as any place could be in a house built for "the season," after the season was past. A splendid fire of hickory logs was burning brilliantly and making amends for many deficiencies; the closed wooden shutters gave the reality if not the look of warmth, for though the days might be fine and mild, the mornings and evenings were always very cool up there among the mountains; and a table stood at the last point of readiness for having dinner served. They only waited for the lingering woodc.o.c.k hunters.

It was rather an elderly party, with the exception of one young man whose age might match that of the absent two. He was walking up and down the room with somewhat the air of having nothing to do with himself. Another gentleman, much older, stood warming his back at the fire, feeling about his jaws and chin with one hand, and looking at the dinner-table in a sort of expectant reverie. The rest, three ladies, sat quietly chatting. All these persons were extremely different from one another in individual characteristics, and all had the unmistakable mark of the habit of good society; as difficult to locate, and as easy to recognise, as the sense of _freshness_ which some ladies have the secret of diffusing around themselves; ? no definable sweetness, nothing in particular, but making a very agreeable impression.

One of these ladies, the mother of the perambulating young officer, (he was a cla.s.s-mate of Rossitur's,) was extremely plain in feature, even more than _ordinary_. This plainness was not, however, devoid of sense, and it was relieved by an uncommon amount of good-nature and kindness of heart. In her son the sense deepened into acuteness, and the kindness of heart retreated, it is to be hoped, into some hidden recess of his nature; for it very rarely showed itself in open expression; that is, to an eye keen in reading the natural signs of emotion; for it cannot be said that his manner had any want of amenity or politeness.

The second lady, the wife of the gentleman on the hearth-rug, or rather on the spot where the hearth-rug should have been, was a strong contrast to this mother and son; remarkably pretty, delicate, and even lovely; with a black eye, however, that though in general soft, could show a mischievous sparkle upon occasion; still young, and one of those women who always were and always will be pretty and delicate at any age.

The third had been very handsome, and was still a very elegant woman, but her face had seen more of the world's wear and tear. It had never known placidity of expression, beyond what the habitual command of good-breeding imposed. She looked exactly what she was, a perfect woman of the world. A very good specimen, ? for Mrs. Carleton had sense and cultivation, and even feeling enough, to play the part very gracefully; yet her mind was bound in the shackles of "the world's" tyrannical forging, and had never been free; and her heart bowed submissively to the same authority.

"Here they are! Welcome home," exclaimed this lady, as her son and his friend at length made their appearance; ? "Welcome home ? we are all famishing; and I don't know why in the world we waited for you, for I am sure you don't deserve it. What success? What success, Mr. Rossitur?"

"Faith, Ma'am, there's little enough to boast of, as far as I am concerned. Mr. Carleton may speak for himself."

"I am very sorry, Ma'am, you waited for me," said that gentleman. "I am a delinquent, I acknowledge. The day came to an end before I was at all aware of it."

"It would not do to flatter you so far as to tell you why we waited," said Mrs. Evelyn's soft voice. And then perceiving that the gentleman at whom she was looking gave her no answer, she turned to the other. "How many woodc.o.c.k, Mr. Rossitur?"

"Nothing to show, Ma'am," he replied. "Didn't see a solitary one. I heard some partridges, but I didn't mean to have room in my bag for them."

"Did you find the right ground, Rossitur?"

"I had a confounded long tramp after it if I didn't," said the discomfited sportsman, who did not seem to have yet recovered his good humour.