"There, I"ve begun both roses, and hers is "bout finished. I sha"n"t have more "n enough white alapaca. It"s lucky the moths spared one breadth of the wedding dresses; we was married on the same day, you know, and dressed just alike. Jot wa"n"t quite ready to be married, for he wa"n"t any more forehanded "bout that than he was "bout other things; but I told him Lovey and I had kept up with each other from the start, and he "d got to fall into line or drop out o" the percession.--Now what next?"
"Wasn"t there anybody at the wedding but you and Lovice?" asked Priscilla, with an amused smile.
"Land, yes! The meeting-house was cram jam full. Oh, to be sure! I know what you "re driving at! Well, I have to laugh to think I should have forgot the husbands! They"ll have to be worked into the story, certain; but it"ll be consid"able of a ch.o.r.e, for I can"t make flowers out of coat and pants stuff, and there ain"t any more flowers on this branch anyway."
Diadema sat for a few minutes in rapt thought, and then made a sudden inspired dash upstairs, where Miss Hollis presently heard her rummaging in an old chest. She soon came down, triumphant.
"Wa"n"t it a providence I saved Jot"s and Reuben"s wedding ties! And here they are,--one yellow and green mixed, and one brown. Do you know what I"m going to do? I"m going to draw in a b.u.t.terfly hovering over them two roses, and make it out of the neckties,--green with brown spots. That"ll bring in the husbands; and land! I wouldn"t have either of "em know it for the world. I"ll take a pattern of that lunar moth you pinned on the curtain yesterday."
Miss Hollis smiled in spite of herself. "You have some very ingenious ideas and some very pretty thoughts, Mrs. Bascom, do you know it?"
"It"s the first time I ever heard tell of it," said Diadema cheerfully.
"Lovey was the pretty-spoken, pretty-appearing one; I was always plain and practical. While I think of it, I"ll draw in a little mite of this red into my carnation pink. It was a red scarf Reuben brought Lovey from Portland. It was the first thing he ever give her, and aunt Hitty said if one of the Abel Grangers give away anything that cost money, it meant business. That was all fol-de-rol, for there never was a more liberal husband, though he was a poor minister; but then they always _are_ poor, without they"re rich; there don"t seem to be any halfway in ministers.
"We was both lucky that way. There ain"t a stingy bone in Jot Bascom"s body. He don"t make much money, but what he does make goes into the bureau drawer, and the one that needs it most takes it out. He never asks me what I done with the last five cents he give me. You "ve never been married Miss Hollis, and you ain"t engaged, so you don"t know much about it; but I tell you there "s a heap o" foolishness talked about husbands. If you get the one you like yourself, I don"t know as it matters if all the other women folks in town don"t happen to like him as well as you do; they ain"t called on to do that. They see the face he turns to them, not the one he turns to you. Jot ain"t a very good provider, nor he ain"t a man that "s much use round a farm, but he "s such a fav"rite I can"t blame him. There "s one thing: when he does come home he "s got something to say, and he "s always as lively as a cricket, and smiling as a basket of chips. I like a man that "s good comp"ny, even if he ain"t so forehanded. There ain"t anything specially lovable about forehandedness, when you come to that. I shouldn"t ever feel drawed to a man because he was on time with his work. He "s got such pleasant ways, Jot has! The other afternoon he didn"t get home early enough to milk; and after I done the two cows, I split the kindling and brought in the wood, for I knew he "d want to go to the tavern and tell the boys "bout the robbery up to Boylston. There ain"t anybody but Jot in this village that has wit enough to find out what "s going on, and tell it in an int"resting way round the tavern fire. And he can do it without being full of cider, too; he don"t need any apple juice to limber _his_ tongue!
"Well, when he come in, he see the pails of milk, and the full wood-box, and the supper laid out under the screen cloth on the kitchen table, and he come up to me at the sink, and says he, "Diademy, you "re the best wife in this county, and the brightest jewel in my crown,--that "s what _you_ are!" (He got that idea out of a duet he sings with Almiry Berry.) Now I"d like to know whether that ain"t pleasanter than "t is to have a man do all the shed "n" barn work up smart, and then set round the stove looking as doleful as a last year"s bird"s nest? Take my advice, Miss Hollis: get a good provider if you can, but anyhow try to find you a husband that"ll keep on courting a little now and then, when he ain"t too busy; it smooths things consid"able round the house.
"There, I got so int"rested in what I was saying, I"ve went on and finished the carnation, and some of the stem, too. Now what comes next?
Why, the thing that happened next, of course, and that was little Jot.
"I"ll work in a bud on my rose and one on Lovey"s, and my bud"ll be made of Jot"s first trousers. The goods ain"t very appropriate for a rosebud, but it"ll have to do, for the idee is the most important thing in this rug. When I put him into pants, I hadn"t any cloth in the house, and it was such bad going Jot couldn"t get to Wareham to buy me anything; so I made "em out of an old gray cashmere skirt, and lined "em with flannel."
"Buds are generally the same color as the roses, aren"t they?" ventured Priscilla.
"I don"t care if they be," said Diadema obstinately. "What"s to hender this bud"s bein" grafted on? Mrs. Granger was as black as an Injun, but the little Granger children were all red-headed, for they took after their father. But I don"t know; you"ve kind o" got me out o" conceit with it. I s"pose I could have taken a piece of his baby blanket; but the moths never et a mite o" that, and it"s too good to cut up. There"s one thing I can do: I can make the bud up with a long stem, and have it growing right up alongside of mine,--would you?"
"No, it must be stalk of your stalk, bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh, so to speak. I agree with you, the idea is the first thing.
Besides, the gray is a very light shade, and I dare say it will look like a bluish white."
"I"ll try it and see, but I wish to the land the moths _had_ eat the pinning-blanket, and then I could have used it. Lovey worked the scallops on the aidge for me. My grief! what int"rest she took in my baby clothes! Little Jot was born at Thanksgiving time, and she come over from Skowhegan, where Reuben was settled pastor of his first church. I shall never forget them two weeks to the last day of my life.
There was deep snow on the ground. I had that chamber there, with the door opening into the setting-room. Mother and father Bascom kep" out in the dining-room and kitchen, where the work was going on, and Lovey and the baby and me had the front part of the house to ourselves, with Jot coming in on tiptoe, heaping up wood in the fireplace so "t he "most roasted us out. He don"t forget his ch.o.r.es in time o" sickness.
"I never took so much comfort in all my days. Jot got one of the Billings girls to come over and help in the housework, so "t I could lay easy "s long as I wanted to; and I never had such a rest before nor since. There ain"t any heaven in the book o" Revelations that "s any better than them two weeks was. I used to lay quiet in my good feather bed, fingering the pattern of my best crochet quilt, and looking at the fire-light shining on Lovey and the baby. She "d hardly leave him in the cradle a minute. When I did n"t want him in bed with me, she "d have him in her lap. Babies are common enough to most folks, but Lovey was diff"rent. She "d never had any experience with children, either, for we was the youngest in our family; and it wa"n"t long before we come near being the oldest, too, for mother buried seven of us before she went herself. Anyway, I never saw n.o.body else look as she done when she held my baby. I don"t mean nothing blasphemious when I say "t was for all the world like your photograph of Mary, the mother of Jesus.
"The nights come in early, so it was "most dark at four o"clock.
The little chamber was so peaceful! I could hear Jot rattling the milk-pails, but I"d draw a deep breath o" comfort, for I knew the milk would be strained and set away without my stepping foot to the floor.
Lovey used to set by the fire, with a tall candle on the light-stand behind her, and a little white knit cape over her shoulders. She had the pinkest cheeks, and the longest eyelashes, and a mouth like a little red b.u.t.tonhole; and when she bent over the baby, and sung to him,--though his ears wa"n"t open, I guess for his eyes wa"n"t,--the tears o" joy used to rain down my cheeks. It was pennyrial hymns she used to sing mostly, and the one I remember best was
""Daniel"s wisdom may I know, Stephen"s faith and spirit show; John"s divine communion feel, Moses" meekness, Joshua"s zeal, Run like the unwearied Paul, Win the day and conquer all.
""Mary"s love may I possess, Lydia"s tender-heartedness, Peter"s fervent spirit feel, James"s faith by works reveal, Like young Timothy may I Every sinful pa.s.sion fly."
""Oh Diademy," she "d say, "you was always the best, and it "s nothing more "n right the baby should have come to you. P"r"aps G.o.d will think I"m good enough some time; and if he does, Diademy, I"ll offer up a sacrifice every morning and every evening. But I"m afraid," says she, "he thinks I can"t stand any more happiness, and be a faithful follower of the cross. The Bible says we "ve got to wade through fiery floods before we can enter the kingdom. I don"t hardly know how Reuben and I are going to find any way to wade through; we"re both so happy, they "d have to be consid"able hot before we took notice," says she, with the dimples all breaking out in her cheeks.
"And that was true as gospel. She thought everything Reuben done was just right, and he thought everything she done was just right. There wa"n"t n.o.body else; the world was all Reuben "n" all Lovey to them.
If you could have seen her when she was looking for him to come from Skowhegan! She used to watch at the attic window; and when she seen him at the foot of the hill she "d up like a squirrel, and run down the road without stopping for anything but to throw a shawl over her head. And Reuben would ketch her up as if she was a child, and scold her for not putting a hat on, and take her under his coat coming up the hill. They was a sight for the neighbors, I must confess, but it wa"n"t one you could hardly disapprove of, neither. Aunt Hitty said it was tempting Providence and couldn"t last, and G.o.d would visit his wrath on "em for making idols of sinful human flesh.
"She was right one way,--it didn"t last; but n.o.body can tell me G.o.d was punishing of "em for being too happy. I guess he "ain"t got no objection to folks being happy here below, if they don"t forget it ain"t the whole story.
"Well, I must mark in a bud on Lovey"s stalk now, and I"m going to make it of her baby"s long white cloak. I earned the money for it myself, making coats, and put four yards of the finest cashmere into it; for three years after little Jot was born I went over to Skowhegan to help Lovey through her time o" trial. Time o" trial! I thought I was happy, but I didn"t know how to be as happy as Lovey did; I wa"n"t made on that pattern.
"When I first showed her the baby (it was a boy, same as mine), her eyes shone like two evening stars. She held up her weak arms, and gathered the little bundle o" warm flannen into "em; and when she got it close she shut her eyes and moved her lips, and I knew she was taking her lamb to the altar and offering it up as a sacrifice. Then Reuben come in. I seen him give one look at the two dark heads laying close together on the white piller, and then go down on his knees by the side of the bed.
"T wa"n"t no place for me; I went off, and left "em together. We didn"t mistrust it then, but they only had three days more of happiness, and I"m glad I give "em every minute."
The room grew dusky as twilight stole gently over the hills of Pleasant River. Priscilla"s lip trembled; Diadema"s tears fell thick and fast on the white rosebud, and she had to keep wiping her eyes as she followed the pattern.
"I ain"t said as much as this about it for five years," she went on, with a tell-tale quiver in her voice, "but now I"ve got going I can"t stop. I"ll have to get the weight out o" my heart somehow.
"Three days after I put Lovey"s baby into her arms the Lord called her home. "When I prayed so hard for this little new life, Reuben," says she holding the baby as if she could never let it go, "I didn"t think I"d got to give up my own in place of it; but it"s the first fiery flood we"ve had, dear, and though it burns to my feet I"ll tread it as brave as I know how."
"She didn"t speak a word after that; she just faded away like a snowdrop, hour by hour. And Reuben and I stared at one another in the face as if we was dead instead of her, and we went about that house o"
mourning like sleep-walkers for days and says, not knowing whether we et or slept, or what we done.
"As for the baby, the poor little mite didn"t live many hours after its mother, and we buried "em together. Reuben and I knew what Lovey would have liked. She gave her life for the baby"s, and it was a useless sacrifice, after all. No, it wa"n"t neither; it _could_n"t have been!
You needn"t tell me G.o.d"ll let such sacrifices as that come out useless!
But anyhow, we had one coffin for "em both, and I opened Lovey"s arms and laid the baby in "em. When Reuben and I took our last look, we thought she seemed more "n ever like Mary, the mother of Jesus. There never was another like her, and there never will be. "Nonesuch," Reuben used to call her."
There was silence in the room, broken only by the ticking of the old clock and the tinkle of a distant cowbell. Priscilla made an impetuous movement, flung herself down by the basket of rags, and buried her head in Diadema"s gingham ap.r.o.n.
"Dear Mrs. Bascom, don"t cry. I"m sorry, as the children say."
"No, I won"t more "n a minute. Jot can"t stand it to see me give way.
You go and touch a match to the kitchen fire, so "t the kettle will be boiling, and I"ll have a minute to myself. I don"t know what the neighbors would think to ketch me crying over my drawing-in frame; but the spell"s over now, or "bout over, and when I can muster up courage I"ll take the rest of the baby"s cloak and put a border of white everlastings round the outside of the rug. I"ll always mean the baby"s birth and Lovey"s death to me; but the flowers will remind me it "s life everlasting for both of "em, and so it"s the most comforting end I can think of."
It was indeed a beautiful rug when it was finished and laid in front of the sofa in the fore-room. Diadema was very choice of it. When company was expected she removed it from its accustomed place, and spread it in a corner of the room where no profane foot could possibly tread on it.
Unexpected callers were managed by a different method. If they seated themselves on the sofa, she would fear they did not "set easy" or "rest comfortable" there, and suggest their moving to the stuffed chair by the window. The neighbors thought this solicitude merely another sign of Diadema"s "p"ison neatness," excusable in this case as there was so much white in the new rug.
The fore-room blinds were ordinarily closed, and the chillness of death pervaded the sacred apartment; but on great occasions, when the sun was allowed to penetrate the thirty-two tiny panes of gla.s.s in each window, and a blaze was lighted in the fire-place, Miss Hollis would look in as she went upstairs, and muse a moment over the pathetic little romance of rags, the story of two lives worked into a bouquet of old-fashioned posies, whose gay tints were brought out by a setting of sombre threads.
Existence had gone so quietly in this remote corner of the world that all its important events, babyhood, childhood, betrothal, marriage, motherhood, with all their mysteries of love and life and death, were chronicled in this narrow s.p.a.ce not two yards square.
Diadema came in behind the little school-teacher one afternoon.
"I cal"late," she said, "that being kep" in a dark room, and never being tread on, it will last longer "n I do. If it does, Priscilla, you know that white crepe shawl of mine I wear to meeting hot Sundays: that would make a second row of everlastings round the border. You could piece out the linings good and smooth on the under side, draw in the white flowers, and fill "em round with black to set "em off. The rug would be han"somer than ever then, and the story--would be finished."
A VILLAGE STRADIVARIUS.
I.