A Little Girl in Old Washington, Page 3

  CHAPTER III.

  APPLES OF DISCORD.

  It was very hard for Annis Bouvier to give up so much of her mother.Her new father teased her a little, but when he saw she was reallypained and the tears came into her eyes he would stop and give hera caress and a kiss. He was a very kindly master, and the overseergrumbled a little at times and made up by undue severity. Then hecertainly was an indulgent father. Patricia despaired at times ofestablishing any authority.

  The house was so large, the servants so numerous, the confusion sogreat after the quiet life she had led in the far-away settlement. Andat first not a day passed without some visitors, who came to pay theirrespects to the new mistress. Jaqueline ordered her pony and rode offwith a mere announcement to anyone standing near. She seemed to haveno end of girl friends and was mostly a law unto herself. She and hersister had numerous squabbles that never degenerated into quarrels.Annis liked Patricia very much, but she and Varina looked askance ateach other, with considerable jealousy at the bottom.

  Mrs. Jettson came over with her nurse and two babies, and Annis wasdelighted with them.

  "But they are not yours in any way," said Varina. "They belong to usand Grandma Floyd."

  "That is being a selfish little girl, Rene," said Aunt Jane. "Annis isto be like a sister to you."

  "But I don't want her for a sister. I have enough sisters. She shallnot ride on my pony nor feed my pigeons nor have any of my books."

  Annis' heart swelled within her.

  "I don't want any of them," she made answer. "And I wish mamma and Icould go away. She belongs to me and--and a little to your father, butmost to me. But I wish she didn't belong to any of you!" and the soft,deep eyes overflowed with tears.

  "Oh, Annis! what is this all about?" Patricia flew in and clasped thelittle girl in her arms in spite of a protest. "I'm beginning to loveyour mother very much. You see, she _does_ belong to us, and now youcan't take her away. And we are glad to have you----"

  "I'm not glad." Varina stretched up every inch of her size. "I'm surewe were well enough before."

  "It's mostly Rene's dispute," began Aunt Jane. "Annis was enjoying thebabies. Come here, dear."

  Annis rushed out of the room sobbing. Where was her mother?

  "Rene, you naughty little girl!" and Patricia gave her a shake. "Why,Jane, we have all been getting along in the very nicest manner. And_she's_ just lovely. We couldn't quite resolve at first whether wewould call her mother; but father wanted us to, and now it seemsnatural enough. Louis likes her ever so much. And Jack says she's likea big sister. She's nicer than Aunt Catharine was at the last, shefretted at us so. I hope her little girls are pretty bad, and then shewon't think we are the worst."

  Aunt Jane laughed. "I dare say Aunt Catharine will have some trials.That is a funny wish. Rene, you must learn to like this little girl. Ithink her very nice and sweet. I shall ask her to come over and visitme."

  "Then I won't come." Varina's eyes flashed.

  "But why do you not like her?"

  "She sits on father's knee, and--and Charles read to her yesterday andshowed her pictures in his book and said she understood better than Idid. And Mammy said her hair was beautiful."

  Varina began to cry.

  "So her hair is beautiful," said Aunt Jane decisively. "And perhaps she_is_ smart. You are dull at your book, Varina, and if you are going tobe cross and jealous your father will not like you. Fie, for shame!"

  "If you are going to roar like the bull of Bashan you will have to goupstairs by yourself. And I must find little Annis," declared Patricia.

  Annis had seen her mother walk down the path under the mulberrytrees, and she ran swiftly, sobbing as if her heart would break witha strange, yearning homesickness for the home in the forest and hermother all to herself once more. Then she caught her foot in the rootof a tree that had pushed up out of the ground, but two friendly armsclasped her, and sitting down on the bole of a tree that had been sawedoff to thin the dense shrubbery, he held her tenderly.

  "What is it, little Annis? What has happened to you?"

  "I want my dear mother," the child sobbed. "I want her to go away andtake me. I can't stay here. I'd rather have Sally Brown to play with,and the great woods. I think I shouldn't even mind Indians, nor darknights."

  "Has Charles been cross to you?"

  "No, I like Charles. Let me go find mamma."

  "You can't have her just now," said Louis in a soothing tone. "Fatherhas to have her on a little matter of business."

  "You _all_ have her!" resentfully.

  "That is because she is so charming and sweet."

  Annis looked up into the face that was smiling and sympathetic.

  "Tell me the trouble. Surely Patty or Jacky have not been scoldingyou? For you couldn't have done anything bad. You are such a shy, quietlittle thing."

  "I was playing with the babies----"

  "Surely it wasn't Aunt Jane?"

  "No." She had stopped sobbing and raised her sweet eyes, the tearsstill beading the lashes.

  "Why do you want to go away, then?"

  There was no answer. Did she really want to go? The arm about her wasvery friendly. She had felt almost afraid of this big brother, but hisvoice went to her heart.

  "I think we cannot spare you. I know we cannot spare your mother."

  "Annis! Annis!" called the clear girl's voice.

  "Here, Patty," answered her brother, and the young girl ran down tothem. She smiled at Annis.

  "What happened?" Louis asked.

  "It was that little cat Rene! She didn't scratch, though. Rene has beenspoiled by everybody, and she believes now that no one has any rightsbut herself."

  "And we'll stand by Annis. Come--you do like us a little, do you not?"

  He put both hands on her shoulders and smiled in a very winsome manner.

  "Of course she does." Patty stooped and kissed her. "You must not mindRene when she gets in a temper. See, there's Jacky and I, two girls onyour side, and Louis and Charles, I am quite sure. Don't you know Jacktold you we were always taking sides?"

  "But--what will--Rene do?"

  The tone was so half-reluctant, pity fighting against inclination, thatLouis could not forbear smiling while he hugged her to his heart.

  "Rene must be punished. It isn't the first time she has been snappy,Louis. She quarreled with Charles the other day because----"

  Patty finished the sentence with raising her brows and making very bigeyes.

  "Because," said Annis in a low tone, "he was reading to me and wouldnot leave his book to go and play."

  Annis looked very pretty with her downcast eyes and the softened truthin her tone.

  "Charles was a gentleman. All Virginia boys should be. And now, littleAnnis, isn't it all made up? You will not want to go away?"

  "I like you both," Annis said simply.

  "Come back and see the babies," and Patricia held out her hand.

  Louis bent down and kissed her. Of course no one would ever grudge herany love, not even Rene when she understood. It was a mere childishebullition.

  Jaqueline had come in and heard the story, and, as she was quiteaccustomed to authority, Rene had been handed over to Mammy Philliswith strict injunction to keep her a prisoner for the next two hours.Jane had come out on the lawn and little Floyd was rolling over theshort turf in the care of a laughing darkey boy, while Arthur lay onhis back crowing and chewing his fat fists for an interlude. There washer mother with some needlework in her hand, and Annis flew to her,hiding her face in the little hollow between neck and shoulder, with agreat heart-throb of thankfulness.

  No one remarked on Rene's absence at the dinner table. It was a jollyfamily gathering, and there was a great deal of talk about what wasgoing on in the City and the coming election and the return of Louis tocollege. Jaqueline would go with him and pay Aunt Catharine her firstvisit, that she was very urgent about. She missed the young peoplesadly, she admitted.

  They also discussed a tutor for the younger children
. Althougheducation had not taken a very wide range for girls as yet, thenecessity was beginning to be felt. Ministers appointed abroad wouldwant intelligent wives, and even now, in Washington, foreignersappeared in society, and it was considered an accomplishment to talkFrench and to be entertaining.

  The elders went to take an afternoon nap, a favorite habit with thesquire when he could.

  "Come," Charles said to Annis, "let us go down under the pines andread," and she was nothing loath. The old heroes of Froissart werelike fairyland to the children. Then there were marvelous pictures, theroughest kind of woodcuts, but they picked out their heroes with greatsatisfaction.

  Annis had seen few books. There were some old French volumes belongingto her father, and Patricia had begun to teach the little girl asa solace for her long and often weary hours. This was a garden ofdelight, even if Charles did puzzle over the long words and miscallthem.

  Jane took Varina home with her, which was a great source of elationafter the enforced seclusion of the day. She gave Annis an indifferentnod as she stepped into the carriage.

  "You must be a good little girl and mind Aunt Jane," said her father.

  "Children's tiffs are natural," he remarked to his wife. "Varinahas been the baby so long she cannot tolerate a rival. Years ago shecrowded Charles out of his place."

  He was not quite sure but the winsome little Annis, with her shy sweetways and ready interest, was the more companionable. Yet he must not bedisloyal to his own.

  Were they all on her side? Annis wondered. And would she need to takesides anywhere? She was very happy and content. Louis took her outriding on Varina's pony. She demurred at first, but the squire promisedto look up a suitable one for her in a day or two.

  The new wife soon became settled in her agreeable surroundings. Shehad not an aggressive nature, and the house servants soon learned thather rule was not as severe as Miss Catharine's, while quite as wise.She really desired to win the affection of her husband's children.Neighbors were near enough for pleasant rides and drives. There wasmuch hearty sociability among these Virginian people. There had grownup a certain ease and carelessness since the strenuous days of the war.Though finances had been troublesome and grave questions, as well asbitter disputes, had come to the forefront of the young republic--inspite of all there had been a certain degree of prosperity on the largeestates, where nearly everything was raised and much made for homeconsumption. Georgetown was rather a thriving and fashionable place.Bladensburg was quite a summer resort, on account of a mineral springmany thought efficacious for numerous diseases. Vessels laden withtobacco still sailed from its wharves down the Anacostia. There was thenoted dueling-ground also, where proud-spirited men went to satisfytheir "honor." Around, in many directions, were handsome Colonialmansions with picturesque grounds. Washington was slowly emergingfrom the chaos of unfinished streets and buildings, but had not yetoutgrown the flings of the envious and disappointed. The Capitol shonein its white glory. The President's mansion was imposing and habitable,though, through the administration, it had been graced largely by Mrs.Madison, the charming wife of the secretary of state, and one of hersisters.

  When Annis Bouvier went over with her mother and stepfather to bringhome Rene, who had tired of the babies and was longing for her ponyand the larger liberty, and, perhaps, her disputes with Charles andthe teasing of Louis, as well as the merriment of her sisters, thechild stared at the stately row of buildings that quite met her ideaof a palace. The long and wide avenues running off into unfinishedspaces, the trees already beginning to make a brave show, the handsomedwellings here and there were a fair augury of things to come, andseemed wonderful to her. Out in the settlement it had been vaguelyspeculated upon. Was it not a dream?

  They drove about in some of the most passable streets. People wereout for an airing this pleasant afternoon; numbers of men stood ingroups in eager discussion, some gesticulating quite as fiercely asGrandfather Floyd had done. There were pretty young women on horseback,with their attendant cavaliers, laughing and jesting, and a few boysrunning about. The broad river, with its curves, receiving in its bosomthe springs and rivulets and edged with swaying grasses topping intofeathery fronds, while multitudes of wild flowers sprinkled the verdurethat, from its moisture, still kept the greenness and fresh aspect ofspring.

  "Now you can take a good look at everything," said the squire, leaningover to Annis. "We hurried through so, and it was nearly dark when wecame from Baltimore. It is the palace of our republic."

  Annis was to see it under various phases and to spend a night of terrorin it, then to watch it arise from the ashes of destruction. But shecould always recall this lovely afternoon and the birds flashing hitherand thither in flame-color and gold--the Maryland yellow-throat, theredbird, with his high cockade and his bold, soldier-like air. Childas she was, the beauty of all things touched her deeply, and she hardlyheard Varina's chatter about what she had done and where she had been,and the spinet at Aunt Jane's house, "which I do think more refinedthan a fiddle," declared the little miss disdainfully. "A lady can playon it. Of course fiddling is the right thing to dance by, and it seemsproper enough for the slaves. And some of the real elegant people cometo Aunt Jane's. Your mother hasn't any gown half as pretty as theywear."

  "No," returned Annis, without a touch of envy.

  "Jaqueline is to have some new gowns to go to Williamsburg. Oh, I justwish I was a big girl and could have fine things! I hate being little!You get sent out of the room when the ladies are talking, and youhave to go to bed early, and you can't come to the table when there iscompany. I am going to try my very best to grow and grow."

  Annis wondered whether she would like being a young lady. Jacky wasnice, to be sure.

  Jaqueline seemed to enjoy it very much. The new tutor, who was a Mr.Evans, a young man, was to take charge of the girls' studies, as wellas those of Charles. Patricia quite envied her sister, and declaredFrench was the greatest nuisance that had ever been invented.

  "You don't invent a language," corrected Charles. "It grows by slowdegrees and is improved upon and perfected----"

  "It was just sent upon the world at the Tower of Babel," interruptedPatricia. "After all," laughing--and a laugh always came to end Patty'sspurts of temper--"it must have been very funny. Think of a man askingfor--what were they building the tower out of? Bricks, wasn't it? andwater, and the other man not understanding. And I suppose bread had adozen new queer names, and everything! What a jabber it was! And that'swhere the languages came in, Master Charles," with a note of triumph inher clear, breezy voice.

  "Just wait until you study Latin and Greek!"

  "Girls don't have to, thank fortune! The French will destroy myconstitution, and, unlike the United States, I haven't any by-laws, soI shall be finished out."

  "There have been some learned women and wonderful queens."

  "I can't be a queen. I don't want to. Think of poor Marie Antoinette!"and Patty shivered. "I _might_ marry someone who would be President,but it is doubtful. No, like Jacky, I shall go in for the good time."

  Charles thought there was not much comfort talking to girls, exceptAnnis, who listened with attentive eyes, and asked such sensiblequestions--as if she really wanted to know things. The very first daythe boy warmed to his tutor, and Mr. Evans was quite delighted withthis small scholar. But, as the trend of the day was then, he also hadno very exalted opinion of girls, and considered their highest honorthat at the head of the household.

  The great trunk in the storeroom that Aunt Catharine went throughreligiously once a year, to see that no corrupting influences, such asmoth or rust, should gain surreptitious entrance, was to be opened now,and Jaqueline's portion of her dead mother's treasures bestowed uponher. Aunt Catharine had divided them as equally as possible, and donethem up in separate parcels for each girl. In her early married lifeMrs. Mason had made a visit to Paris, while Franklin was still abroad.There had been a sojourn in London as well, and she had brought homeenough to last her brief life and to descend
to her children. Mrs.Conway specified which gowns should be refashioned a little for herniece and what of her mother's jewels it would be proper for her towear. Jaqueline would fain have confiscated all.

  "Do as your aunt advises," said her father, with a sound of authorityin his tone not to be gainsaid. "She was always a woman of good senseuntil she took up with those ultra views of religion, and Conway. Shewas so settled in her ways, too, that no one would have dreamed it,either; but there's no telling what a woman will do until she's pastdoing. And it's natural for them to marry. But Catharine could have hadher pick in her youth. She held her head mighty high then."

  There was no little confusion getting the two young people ready. Louisbrushed up some studies with Mr. Evans, for his summer had been oneof careless fun and good-fellowship with the neighboring young men.Still, he was ambitious to stand well and not drop behind his lastyear's record. Then they had to go up and bid grandmother good-by, andthere were neighborhood gatherings quite as important as if these youngpeople were going to the unexplored wilds of Africa.

  Their departure made a sudden hiatus. With so many people in the houseand on the plantation, it did not seem as if two could be so sincerelyregretted. Every slave, from Homer down to the rollicking pickaninnies,bemoaned "Mas'r Louis"; and Mammy Phil, who had nursed every one of the"chillens," had a double dose of sorrow, and so many reminiscences thatPatricia was provoked.

  "As if there were never any children in the world but Louis andJaqueline!" she flung out with some vexation. "Mammy, you wouldn't makeas much fuss if I was going to be buried."

  "'Fore de Lord, chile, dat would break Mammy's heart cl'ar in two! Youcan't 'member how de joy went roun' in all de cabins when young mas'rhad a son born to be de heir. Why de 'clar' o' peace wan't nuffin toit!"

  "I shouldn't think I could remember that!" said the girl, with greatdignity and a withering accent, "seeing as I was not in the rejoicing.You are getting old and doted, mammy!"

  The old slave woman wiped her eyes. But to her comfort she had founda delightful listener in little Annis, who never wearied of the familylegends, and who studied the portraits in the great drawing room witha mysterious sort of awe. There was a cavalier of the times of thefirst Charles, with his slashed doublet, his Vandyke collar and cuffsof what had been snowy linen and elegant lace, and his picturesquehat with its long plume: a sharp-featured, handsome face in spite ofa certain languid indifference. There was another in a suit of greencamlet, richly laced, and the great periwig of close-curled rings.The hand, almost covered with costly lace ruffles, rested lightly onthe jeweled hilt of the rapier that hung at his side. There were twoplainer men: one suggestive of Puritan times; one, round, rosy, quitemodern in the half-Continental costume, that one would easily guess wasthe squire in his youth. Beside it was Mistress Mason in her weddinggown of satin trimmed with a perfect cloud of Venice point, a stomacherset with precious stones, and a brocaded petticoat. Like a soft mist aveil floated about her exquisite shoulders, fastened at the top with adiamond clasp. There was the beauty of the Verneys and the Carringtonsin her face.

  "That is our own mother," said Varina as she was showing Annis theancestors of the house. "She is a great deal handsomer than yourmother, and yours has no such fine gowns. This has been laid away,and we shall all wear it as a wedding gown when our turn comes. AuntCatharine said once there was a fortune in the lace. Has your mothernothing?"

  "She has a string of pearls and some beautiful rings, but I have neverseen any gowns."

  "And she is not handsome," declared the young miss with a decisive air.

  "She is beautiful to me, and sweet and kind, and loves me," repliedAnnis with a swelling heart.

  "Well--our mother loved us. It was very cruel in God to take her away.I would a hundred times rather have her than your mother."

  "I am sorry she is gone. Everybody must love her own mother the best."

  The tone was sweet at the beginning and confident at the end, yet ithardly suited the daughter of the house.

  "You would not have been here, then," triumphantly.

  "No. But we should have left the settlement and come to Baltimore. Iliked it there. And there was a kindly old lady who begged mother toleave me with her, but your father said 'Nay' quite sharply. And atfirst she would not consent to the marriage."

  There had been some jesting discussion at the Carringtons'. Annis hadnot clearly understood it.

  "But she would have had to. Father makes people do his way. He is themaster of everything."

  Annis was silent. She did not yet clearly understand the mystery, butshe sometimes thought she would be glad to go back to the settlementand have her mother all to herself. Something seemed to come betweencontinually. There were numerous cares for the housewife on so large aplantation, with children and servants, visitors and a rather exigenthusband.

  There were many beautiful articles and curiosities in the great drawingroom. But Annis liked Charles better as a guide. They never jarredupon each other, and he had no jealousy. Then, he really liked his newmother.

  Varina cared little for books. Besides the worn Froissart there was acopy of Captain John Smith's adventures, which were wonderful to bothchildren, and here Annis could supply many queries about the Indians,who were rapidly disappearing from this vicinity. Gentle and quiet asCharles was, he had a great desire for adventure, and a soldier's lifeappeared very heroic to him. But the War of the Revolution seemed agesago to the younger people, though the slaves often gathered about thebrushwood fires and related stirring scenes almost as if they had beeneyewitnesses.

  Christmas was a great festival. At nearly every plantation there wasa gathering of neighbors and friends, and in some houses visits ofdays, when extra guests were invited to dinner and a dance given forthe young people. And though the exchange of gifts had none of thecostly features of the present day, there was much real affectionand generosity. Annis thought it delightful. There was an influx ofcousins, with some little girls who were very merry and who found Annisquite charming.

  It had been planned for Jaqueline to return, but no reliableacquaintance seemed ready to undertake the journey. Truth to tell,Jaqueline was tasting the sweets of incipient bellehood, and wasquite a prize to the young collegians. His parish duties not beingvery onerous, the Reverend Conway added to them a professorship inthe college, and the rectory was quite a center of society. What withfrequent guests and the care of two small girls, Mrs. Conway foundher hands quite full, and unable to restrict her nieces' pleasures toher own ideas of what was advisable. Then, she was glad to have thegay, lively girl, who was ready to sing at anyone's bidding, and had agracious way with the elders as well as the young. She had often longedfor the children of this first motherhood, though she accepted her newduties in a satisfactory manner.