"I suppose you will have to kiss me this Thanksgiving, to make things even."
Stanhope needed no broader hint.
"I owe you a heavy grudge," said Mr. Alford, in the evening. "A year ago you robbed me of my child, for little, kittenish Elsie became a thoughtful woman from the day you were here; and now you are going to take away the daughter of my old age."
"Yes, indeed, husband. Now you know how my father felt," said Mrs.
Alford, at the same time wiping something from the corner of her eye.
"Bless me, are you here?" said the old gentleman, wheeling round to his wife. "Mr. Stanhope, I have nothing more to say."
"I declare," exulted George, "that "horrid man" will devour Elsie yet."
"Haw! haw! haw!" laughed big-voiced, big-hearted James. "The idea of our little witch of an Elsie being a minister"s wife!"
It is again Thanksgiving Eve. The trees are gaunt, the fields bare and brown, with dead leaves whirling across them; but a sweeter than June sunshine seems filling the cosey parlor where Elsie, a radiant bride, is receiving her husband"s first kiss almost on the moment that she with her lips so unexpectedly kindled the sacred fire, three years before.
SUSIE ROLLIFFE"S CHRISTMAS
Picnicking in December would be a dreary experience even if one could command all the appliances of comfort which outdoor life permitted.
This would be especially true in the lat.i.tude of Boston and on the bleak hills overlooking that city and its environing waters. Dreary business indeed Ezekiel Watkins regarded it as he shivered over the smoky camp-fire which he maintained with difficulty. The sun was sinking into the southwest so early in the day that he remarked irritably: "Durned if it was worth while for it to rise at all."
Ezekiel Watkins, or Zeke, as he was generally known among his comrades, had ceased to be a resident on that rocky hillside from pleasure. His heart was in a Connecticut valley in more senses than one; and there was not a more homesick soldier in the army. It will be readily guessed that the events of our story occurred more than a century ago. The shots fired at Bunker Hill had echoed in every nook and corner of the New England colonies, and the heart of Zeke Watkins, among thousands of others, had been fired with military ardor. With companions in like frame of mind he had trudged to Boston, breathing slaughter and extermination against the red-coated instruments of English tyranny. To Zeke the expedition had many of the elements of an extended bear-hunt, much exalted. There was a spice of danger and a rich promise of novelty and excitement. The march to the lines about Boston had been a continuous ovation; grandsires came out from the wayside dwellings and blessed the rustic soldiers; they were dined profusely by the housewives, and if not wined, there had been slight stint in New England rum and cider; the apple-cheeked daughters of the land gave them the meed of heroes in advance, and abated somewhat of their ruddy hues at the thought of the dangers to be incurred. Zeke was visibly dilated by all this attention, incense, and military glory; and he stepped forth from each village and hamlet as if the world were scarcely large enough for the prowess of himself and companions. Even on parade he was as stiff as his long-barrelled flintlock, looking as if England could hope for no quarter at his hands; yet he permitted no admiring glances from bright eyes to escape him. He had not traversed half the distance between his native hamlet and Boston before he was abundantly satisfied that pretty Susie Rolliffe had made no mistake in honoring him among the recruits by marks of especial favor. He wore in his squirrel-skin cap the bit of blue ribbon she had given him, and with the mien of a Homeric hero had intimated darkly that it might be crimson before she saw it again. She had clasped her hands, stifled a little sob, and looked at him admiringly. He needed no stronger a.s.surance than her eyes conveyed at that moment. She had been shy and rather unapproachable before, sought by others than himself, yet very chary of her smiles and favors to all. Her ancestors had fought the Indians, and had bequeathed to the demure little maiden much of their own indomitable spirit. She had never worn her heart on her sleeve, and was shy of her rustic admirers chiefly because none of them had realized her ideals of manhood created by fireside stories of the past.
Zeke"s chief compet.i.tor for Susie"s favor had been Zebulon Jarvis; and while he had received little encouragement, he laid his unostentatious devotion at her feet unstintedly, and she knew it. Indeed, she was much inclined to laugh at him, for he was singularly bashful, and a frown from her overwhelmed him. Unsophisticated Susie reasoned that any one who could be so afraid of HER could not be much of a man. She had never heard of his doing anything bold and spirited. It might be said, indeed, that the attempt to wring a livelihood for his widowed mother and for his younger brothers and sisters from the stumpy, rocky farm required courage of the highest order; but it was not of a kind that appealed to the fancy of a romantic young girl. Nothing finer or grander had Zebulon attempted before the recruiting officer came to Opinquake, and when he came, poor Zeb appeared to hang back so timorously that he lost what little place he had in Susie"s thoughts.
She was ignorant of the struggle taking place in his loyal heart. More intense even than his love for her was the patriotic fire which smouldered in his breast; yet when other young men were giving in their names and drilling on the village green, he was absent. To the war appeals of those who sought him, he replied briefly. "Can"t leave till fall."
"But the fighting will be over long before that," it was urged.
"So much the better for others, then, if not for me."
Zeke Watkins made it his business that Susie should hear this reply in the abbreviated form of, "So much the better, then."
She had smiled scornfully, and it must be added, a little bitterly. In his devotion Zeb had been so helpless, so diffidently unable to take his own part and make advances that she, from odd little spasms of sympathy, had taken his part for him, and laughingly repeated to herself in solitude all the fine speeches which she perceived he would be glad to make. But, as has been intimated, it seemed to her droll indeed that such a great stalwart fellow should appear panic-stricken in her diminutive presence. In brief, he had been timidity embodied under her demurely mischievous blue eyes; and now that the recruiting officer had come and marched away with his squad without him, she felt incensed that such a chicken-hearted fellow had dared to lift his eyes to her.
"It would go hard with the Widow Jarvis and all those children if Zeb "listed," Susie"s mother had ventured in half-hearted defence, for did she not look upon him as a promising suitor.
"The people of Opinquake wouldn"t let the widow or the children starve," replied Susie, indignantly. "If I was a big fellow like him, my country would not call me twice. Think how grandfather left grandma and all the children!"
"Well, I guess Zeb thinks he has his hands full wrastling with that stony farm."
"He needn"t come to see me any more, or steal glances at me "tween meetings on Sunday," said the girl, decisively. "He cuts a sorry figure beside Zeke Watkins, who was the first to give in his name, and who began to march like a soldier even before he left us."
"Yes," said Mrs. Rolliffe; "Zeke was very forward. If he holds out as he began--Well, well, Zeke allus was a little forward, and able to speak for himself. You are young yet, Susan, and may learn before you reach my years that the race isn"t allus to the swift. Don"t be in haste to promise yourself to any of the young men."
"Little danger of my promising myself to a man who is afraid even of me! I want a husband like grandfather. He wasn"t afraid to face anything, and he honored his wife by acting as if she wasn"t afraid either."
Zeb gave Susie no chance to bestow the rebuffs she had premeditated. He had been down to witness the departure of the Opinquake quota, and had seen Susie"s farewell to Zeke Watkins. How much it had meant he was not sure--enough to leave no hope or chance for him, he had believed; but he had already fought his first battle, and it had been a harder one than Zeke Watkins or any of his comrades would ever engage in. He had returned and worked on the stony farm until dark. From dawn until dark he continued to work every secular day till September.
His bronzed face grew as stern as it was thin; and since he would no longer look at her, Susie Rolliffe began to steal an occasional and wondering glance at him ""tween meetings."
No one understood the young man or knew his plans except his patient, sad-eyed mother, and she learned more by her intuitions than from his spoken words. She idolized him, and he loved and revered her: but the terrible Puritan restraint paralyzed manifestations of affection. She was not taken by surprise when one evening he said quietly, "Mother, I guess I"ll start in a day or two."
She could not repress a sort of gasping sob however, but after a few moments was able to say steadily, "I supposed you were preparing to leave us."
"Yes, mother, I"ve been a-preparing. I"ve done my best to gather in everything that would help keep you and the children and the stock through the winter. The corn is all shocked, and the older children can help you husk it, and gather in the pumpkins, the beans, and the rest.
As soon as I finish digging the potatoes I think I"ll feel better to be in the lines around Boston. I"d have liked to have gone at first, but in order to fight as I ought I"d want to remember there was plenty to keep you and the children."
"I"m afraid, Zebulon, you"ve been fighting as well as working so hard all summer long. For my sake and the children"s, you"ve been letting Susan Rolliffe think meanly of you."
"I can"t help what she thinks, mother; I"ve tried not to act meanly."
"Perhaps the G.o.d of the widow and the fatherless will shield and bless you, my son. Be that as it may," she added with a heavy sigh, "conscience and His will must guide in everything. If He says go forth to battle, what am I that I should stay you?" Although she did not dream of the truth, the Widow Jarvis was a disciplined soldier herself.
To her, faith meant unquestioning submission and obedience; she had been taught to revere a jealous and an exacting G.o.d rather than a loving one. The heroism with which she pursued her toilsome, narrow, shadowed pathway was as sublime as it was unrecognized on her part.
After she had retired she wept sorely, not only because her eldest child was going to danger, and perhaps death, but also for the reason that her heart clung to him so weakly and selfishly, as she believed.
With a tenderness of which she was half-ashamed she filled his wallet with provisions which would add to his comfort, then, both to his surprise and her own, kissed him good-by. He left her and the younger brood with an aching heart of which there was little outward sign, and with no loftier ambition than to do his duty; she followed him with deep, wistful eyes till he, and next the long barrel of his rifle, disappeared in an angle of the road, and then her interrupted work was resumed.
Susie Rolliffe was returning from an errand to a neighbor"s when she heard the sound of long rapid steps.
A hasty glance revealed Zeb in something like pursuit. Her heart fluttered slightly, for he had looked so stern and sad of late that she had felt a little sorry for him in spite of herself. But since he could "wrastle" with nothing more formidable than a stony farm, she did not wish to have anything to say to him, or meet the embarra.s.sment of explaining a tacit estrangement. She was glad, therefore, that her gate was so near, and pa.s.sed in as if she had not recognized him. She heard his steps become slower and pause at the gate, and then almost in shame in being guilty of too marked discourtesy, she turned to speak, but hesitated in surprise, for now she recognized his equipment as a soldier.
"Why, Mr. Jarvis, where are you going?" she exclaimed.
A dull red flamed through the bronze of his thin cheeks as he replied awkwardly, "I thought I"d take a turn in the lines around Boston."
"Oh, yes," she replied, mischievously, "take a turn in the lines. Then we may expect you back by corn-husking?"
He was deeply wounded, and in his embarra.s.sment could think of no other reply than the familiar words, ""Let not him that girdeth on his harness boast himself as he that putteth it off.""
"I can"t help hoping, Mr. Jarvis, that neither you nor others will put it off too soon--not, at least, while King George claims to be our master. When we"re free I can stand any amount of boasting."
"You"ll never hear boasting from me, Miss Susie;" and then an awkward silence fell between them.
Shyly and swiftly she raised her eyes. He looked so humble, deprecatory, and unsoldier-like that she could not repress a laugh.
"I"m not a British cannon," she began, "that you should be so fearful."
His manhood was now too deeply wounded for further endurance even from her, for he suddenly straightened himself, and throwing his rifle over his shoulder, said sternly, "I"m not a coward. I never hung back from fear, but to keep mother from charity, so I could fight or die as G.o.d wills. You may laugh at the man who never gave you anything but love, if you will, but you shall never laugh at my deeds. Call that boasting or not as you please," and he turned on his heel to depart.
His words and manner almost took away the girl"s breath, so unexpected were they, and unlike her idea of the man. In that brief moment a fearless soldier had flashed himself upon her consciousness, revealing a spirit that would flinch at nothing--that had not even quailed at the necessity of forfeiting her esteem, that his mother might not want.
Humiliated and conscience-stricken that she had done him so much injustice, she rushed forward, crying, "Stop, Zebulon; please do not go away angry with me! I do not forget that we have been old friends and playmates. I"m willing to own that I"ve been wrong about you, and that"s a good deal for a girl to do. I only wish I were a man, and I"d go with you."
Her kindness restored him to his awkward self again, and he stammered, "I wish you were--no, I don"t--I merely stopped, thinking you might have a message; but I"d rather not take any to Zeke Watkins--will, though, if you wish. It cut me all up to have you think I was afraid,"