"No, you were not." Annis smiled a little then.
"How did he fall?"
Annis could not recall that.
"After a little I walked home. No, I wasn't much hurt. I had a lame thumb, I remember; but afterward there used to come what Phillis calls a 'misery' in my back. The headaches did not come until in the winter."
The doctor nodded.
"But I'm bound to get well," added the boy. "I don't want to die. I should have to be dead such a long, long while."
The doctor laughed. "No, we're not going to have you die. That is the least of the trouble. But you may be an invalid quite a while."
"I shouldn't even mind that, if I could study some. I hate to fall behind. And, you see, father is so proud of Louis that I couldn't bear people saying about me 'Poor Charles!' in a pitying way."
"We won't even have them saying that," was the confident answer, as he went out to add a note to the memoranda he had made of the case.
Charles held out his hand to Annis, who came over and gave it a little convulsive clasp.
"Girls are queer," he said in a soft, slow tone that had no reproach in it. "And Dr. Collaston turned you inside out. I do suppose doctors know pretty generally what is going on inside of your body, and sometimes they guess what is in your brain, or your mind, or whatever thinks. I was so afraid he'd get it all out of you!"
"Oh, do you think it wasthat?" Annis' eyes overflowed, and he could feel the quiver of her fingers.
"There—don't cry. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't even Varina's fault. Sam would have turned and gone out, anyhow. And you can't think how nice Varina is growing—pretty, too. I am sure it vexed her a good deal to think she was not as pretty as the older girls, or even you. You're so fair and sweet, with your clouds of light hair and your skin that looks like transparent pearl. You know she was very sorry."
"Oh, we both thought you were dead!" Annis tried hard not to sob.
"Boys take a good deal of killing. You see, I wasn't anywhere near dead. But I did give my back a hard wrench, and I felt it for a week or two, then it all went away; and it was somewhere about the holidays—we were getting greens for the church, and I fainted dead away. After that the ache came back. It's dull and aggravating, not a sharp pain that makes you feel as if you could get up and fight, but sometimes you are wild to run away, to the very ends of the earth! Then it would creep up to my head like some stealthy thing you couldn't put your finger on. Aunt Catharine was good, but she fussed so much, and she's always saying, 'Now, don't you think you ought to do this, or give up doing that? I'm sure it hurts you.' And wanting to find out the cause of everything and settle it on some particular point. It's queer that Rene should get along so well; you know she has a fractious temper! But the little girls just adore her, and at home she was teased a good deal."
He leaned back on the pillow, and his face was very white.
"Oh, you are so tired!" cried Annis.
"Yes. I have just a little bit to say, then you may read to me. I don't want anything said about Varina.She would be almost killed if she thought she was to blame for it. And she wasn't, you know. That little splash in Sam's face wasn't anything. He enjoyed having a bucket of water thrown over him. He's almost a water dog," laughing.
Annis tried to be convinced. If Varina had not persisted when Charles asked her to stop! But, then, Samhadstepped on a rolling stone.
"That's just a little bit between ourselves, not to be talked about, for it can't do any good, and would make Rene so very unhappy, now when she's growing sweeter. I've thought I ought to tell the doctor, but I didn't want to believe the fall had anything to do with it. Whatever happens, you will always love me, Annis?"
"Yes," bending over to kiss the white forehead, her heart full of sympathy and dread for an unknown future.
"And Jack's so lovely! Only I'm awful sorry she didn't marry Mr. Carrington. Patty and her husband are so happy, so are mother and father. There, I am tired. Get a book and read. That about Uncle Toby, who had such a big, sweet, foolish heart."
The children had a great way of picking out parts they liked and skipping the rest.
Then Dr. Collaston had to go up to Washington for a week or two, and sent for Jaqueline also. For Patty had a little baby girl, and they all laughed merrily about being uncles and aunts. What was happening to the country was a minor consideration.
When the doctor came down again he had a well-digested plan.
"If it wasn't for running the risk on the ocean I should say take the boy over to London at once and have the best medical skill there. But there are some excellent physicians in Philadelphia and New York. Old Dr. Rush does little in practicing now, but he is still readyand generous with advice. You know, I am young in the profession, and as yet we cannot boast much medical talent in our young city. Let Mrs. Mason stay with him three months or so, and have the best treatment. I think it quite a serious matter."
Mr. Mason was aghast at first.
"He is so young now, and the injury may not be as bad as I anticipated; but it will need excellent skill to take him through without leaving permanent marks and much suffering. So it had better be attended to at once."
Jaqueline was alarmed at the seriousness of the case. If she could go—
"No; it must be some person of experience, and one whom Charles loves and trusts and would obey. He will make a good patient, for he is anxious to get well; and though he does not whisper such a thing, he has an awful fear of deformity—"
"Oh, you do not think—" in a tremulous tone.
"Hush! I have mentioned it to no one but your parents. It is not to be discussed. It is a spinal trouble, and that covers the ground. And he must have immediate care. You and Annis will come with us, for it would be too lonely to have you here on the plantation, even if your father is back and forth."
Mrs. Mason discussed the plans with Jaqueline at once, and the girl was full of the warmest sympathy.
"If we could take Annis! but the doctor thinks it would be bad for the child, and an added care."
"Oh, mamma, you may trust her with me! I am not as gay and volatile as I was a year ago, nor so frivolous."
"She ought to go to school! Perhaps in the fall—"
"Mamma, that suggests something. A Madame Badeau, a very charming French refugee, has started a school for children and young ladies just a short distance from the doctor's. She is trying to get scholars enoughto insure her support. And she teaches the pianoforte. It is quite coming into vogue since Mrs. Madison makes so much of the grand one at the White House, where ladies are often asked to play. Annis is such a little home girl that she would be very unhappy away. We all love her so dearly. And I will look after her clothes, and the doctor after her health, and Patty and the baby will be so much entertainment. Patty is making a very charming woman, and much admired," said the elder sister heartily.
"That is an admirable plan, and you are kind to take so much interest in the child. It relieves me of considerable anxiety, and she has run wild long enough, though she has picked up an odd conglomeration of knowledge from Charles. I know your father will be glad and thankful."
"To let you go quite away—to stay!" ejaculated Annis, when she heard of the plan. "Mamma, I have given up part of you a good many times, but I can't give up all," and the soft lips quivered. "Why can I not go? I will be very good, and not make any trouble. And I could help you with Charles, and read to him. He is so fond of me."
"It would not be possible to take you, dear," she replied tenderly. "You would add to my care. The doctor thinks this plan the best, the only one."
Annis clung to her mother. "Philadelphia is ever so much farther than Baltimore!" she cried despairingly. "And—you aremymother!"
"But, if Charles should be ill a long while! And think how lonesome he would be with just a nurse! You can write quite well, and you can send me letters about everything. Jaqueline knows of a delightful school you can go to. It is time you were learning something, as well as Varina. There, dear, don't make it harder for me."
Annis was crying on her mother's shoulder. She had thought a three- or four-days' separation very hard—how would she stand weeks and months? To be sure, they all loved her mother, and Charles was especially fond of her; but, after all, she washermother.
Then Mr. Mason came in, but for once she would not sit on his knee nor listen to his bright predictions.
At first Charles refused utterly to go without Annis. He was sure she couldn't be in the way. He loved mamma very much, but he had found it lonely at school without Annis to tell things over to. She was different from the other girls—and, then, they were grown women, except Varina; and he could not stand it without her.
"I want to get well and grow up to manhood, and then none of you shall take her away from me!" he cried.
Mrs. Mason gave a soft sigh, hoping he would have no greater heartache in the days to come.
Dr. Collaston finally persuaded him that this would be the best arrangement, as quiet and a darkened room might be necessary. "And it would be like keeping her a prisoner," he said. "Her mother could not take her out, and she could not go about a strange city alone, so it would be rather selfish to ask so much of her."
"And I don't mean to be selfish. If you all think so, it must be right; but I am sorry, all the same."
"You may get home by Christmas," the doctor said hopefully.
There were many arrangements to make. Only Mr. and Mrs. Mason knew how really serious the case might be, and Mrs. Mason felt that she could not acceptthe responsibility alone. Dixon, the overseer, was a good manager and a trusty man, and his wife a very efficient woman. Indeed, the older house slaves could have run the place without supervision, but it was well to have a responsible head. Louis would come down now and then and inspect the financial affairs, and bring Jaqueline occasionally. It would not be quite like going to London, and Mr. Mason might return if really needed.
So they packed up and put things in order, and went up to Washington to settle Annis. Charles seemed really stronger, but the doctor knew it was only excitement. Patty's house was so pretty and the office so handy, the boy did not see why he could not remain with her.
The house was quite fine for the times. Land was abundant, and houses did not have to crowd. There were spacious rooms, for people were hospitably inclined. Southern women made charming hostesses. In an ell part the doctor had an office, for he was quite ambitious in his profession, if he had one eye on the advancement of the City. He had rented one of his houses, and another was likely to be sold.
There were people who shook their heads dubiously and feared an invasion; others reasoned there was so little prospect of booty in Washington compared to the commercial cities, there could be no possible danger.
Jaqueline had a pretty corner room. Opening into it was a smaller one devoted to Annis, with its dainty bed curtained with white muslin and fringe that nodded in the slightest breeze. The floor was painted, and a rug made by the slaves at home lay at the bedside. Grandmother had sent Patty the mahogany furnishing of one room that she had brought from the Mason house when she was married, and it was quite an heirloom. This was in Jaqueline's room.
The baby went far toward reconciling Annis. Apretty, plump little thing, with great dark eyes and a fringe of dark hair over a white forehead, she looked like a picture. Judy, one of the slaves from home, was her nurse.
Yet the parting was very hard for Annis. The doctor had taken Charles in his own carriage. They were to go to Baltimore and rest a day or two and visit some of the connections.
Annis felt at first as if she must be visiting.
"And do you remember we came up to Mr. Madison's inauguration and went to the Capitol? It seems as if it must have been years and years ago, so many things have happened since then. And everybody seems grown up except Charles and I."
"You were a tiny little girl then. I hope you will not be very homesick; there are so many things to see. And when the horses are sent up we can take beautiful rides."
Annis swallowed over a lump in her throat.
"The baby will grow and be very cunning. And every week you are to write to mamma."
"And to Charles. I am not to mind not getting answers from him; it makes his head ache to write."
"And, then, there are the children at Aunt Jane's. Her baby talks everything in the funniest crooked fashion. To-morrow we will call on Madame Badeau. I hope you will like school. It is only in the morning."
"I am fond of learning things if they are not too hard."
"Some of us have to learn quite hard lessons," and Jaqueline sighed.
Madame Badeau lived in a rather shabby-looking rough stone house, quite small in the front, but plenty large enough for her and a serving-man and maid, and running back to a pretty garden, where she cultivated all manner of beautiful flowers, and such roses that loversof them were always begging a slip or piece of root. There was a parlor in the front filled with the relics of better days, and draped with faded Oriental fabrics that were the envy of some richer people. There was always a curiously fragrant perfume in it. Next was the schoolroom, entered by a side door, where there were small tables in lieu of desks, wooden chairs, and a painted floor that the maid mopped up freshly every afternoon when the children were gone. Back of this were the living room and a very tiny kitchen, while upstairs were two rooms under the peaked roof, where Madame and Bathsheba slept.
Madame was small, with a fair skin full of fine wrinkles. She wore a row of curls across her forehead, a loosely wound, soft white turban that gave her a curious dignity, and very high heels that made a little click as she went around. She was quite delicate, and had exquisite hands, and wore several curious rings. Her voice was so finely modulated that it was like a strain of music, and she still used a good many French words. She had been at the French court and seen the great Franklin and many other notables, and had to fly in the Reign of Terror, with the loss of friends and most of her fortune.
Bathsheba, the maid, was nearly six feet tall, and proud of some Indian blood that gave her straight hair and an almost Grecian nose. She was proud of her mistress too, and was in herself a bodyguard when Madame went out. The old man who kept the garden clean and did outside work was a slave too old for severe labor, and was hired out for a trifle. At night he went home to sleep at the cabin of a grandchild.
Annis was attracted at once by the soft voice that ended a sentence with a sort of caressing cadence. And when Jaqueline wrote her name in full Madame said:
"Bouvier. That is French. Your mamma's maiden name, perhaps?"
"No," returned Annis, with a little color. "It was my own papa, who is dead. And he could read and talk French. I knew a little, but I was so young when he died."
"And our father married Mrs. Bouvier some years ago," said Jaqueline, "so Annis and five of us Mason children constitute the family. Mrs. Bouvier was cousin to our own mother."
"I shall take great pleasure in teaching you French. Poor France has had much to suffer. And now that detestable Corsican is on the throne, with no drop of royal blood in his veins! but you can tell what he thinks of it when he divorces a good and honorable woman that his son may inherit his rank. But my nation did not take kindly to a republic. They are not like you," shaking her turbaned head.
The distance to school was not great, so in fair weather it was a nice walk. Now the place is all squares and circles and rows of beautiful houses, but then people almost wondered at the venturesomeness of Dr. Collaston and Mr. Jettson building houses in country ways; for although streets were laid out and named, there was little paving. The Mason tract was on Virginia Avenue, but the others had gone back of the Executive Mansion, on high ground, and had a fine view of the whole country; and Georgetown being already attractive, it seemed possible the space between would soon be in great demand.
Out beyond them were some fine old mansions belonging to the time of plantations and country settlements. The very last of the preceding century the Convent of the Visitation had been erected, for so many of the Maryland gentry were Roman Catholics. There was a school for girls here, mostly boarding scholars.
Then Rock Creek stretched way up on the heights, threading its path in and out of plantations where fields were dotted with slaves at their work, often singing songs with the soft monotonous refrain that suggested the rhythm of the distant ocean. Occasionally you met a silvery lake that bosomed waving shadows; then stretches of gigantic oaks, somber pines, and hemlocks; and now and then a little nest of Indian wigwams whose inhabitants preferred quasi-civilization.
To the southeast, on the Anacostia River, was the navy yard, active enough now. And there was Duddington Manor, with its high wall and stately trees overtopping it, built by Charles Carroll, to be for a long while a famous landmark in solitary grandeur. But the Van Ness mansion, nearer the Potomac, was always alight, and often strains of music floated out on the night air to the enjoyment of the passer-by.
Annis had been living in a kind of old world, peopled with the heroes of Homer, the knights of Arthur, and the pilgrims of Chaucer, as well as Spenser's "Faërie Queene." She had a confused idea that Pope's garden was in some of these enchanted countries, and that Ben Jonson and Shakspere were among the pilgrims who sang songs and told tales as they traveled on, or stopped at the roadside and acted a play. Charles had learned where to place his heroes and who of them all were real.
Annis left the realm of imagination and fancy and came down to actual study. At first she did not like it.
"But you must know something about modern events," declared Jaqueline, "to read well and write a nice letter; and to understand the history of our own country, which is all real. And to keep accounts—every housekeeper ought to be able to do that. Grandmamma had to look after the big plantation until papa came of age; and women have to do a good many different things."
"I think I shall like learning them, or most of them," and Annis' eyes shone.
"There is dancing, too; you must go in a class next winter. You can embroider nicely, so you needn't bother about that. And I have been in a painting class where there were some quite small girls. Some ladies paint fans and flower pieces beautifully. And Patty thinks she will have a pianoforte, which would be delightful. Singing classes are in vogue, too."
"Oh, dear, can one learn so much?" and the child looked perplexed.
"You do not have to learn it all at once," returned the elder with a smile.
Very few people had any thought of vacations then. True, Washington had a dull spell when Congress was not in session, and some of the people retired to country places or went to the Eastern Shore of Maryland, or to Bladensburg to drink medicated waters. But Madame Badeau kept her school going from eight to twelve for the children's classes. They were all composed of girls, for while Madame admired well-bred young men very much, she could not tolerate growing boys. The afternoons were devoted to what were called fancy branches. Young women came to learn embroidery and lace-making, the duties on foreign goods were so high, and now the risk of importing was so great.
There began to be a different feeling about education. Intelligent women were coming to the fore. To be sure, science was considered unwomanly, but handsome and well-bred Mrs. Gallatin knew enough on many subjects to entertain her husband's guests charmingly. Everybody would have been horrified at the thought of a woman's college, and if a woman's convention had been announced it would have created more indignation than the war was raising.
Yet women with but few early advantages went to Madame Badeau to be trained in conversation and the art of writing polite notes, and some who had a facility for verse-making to learn how an acrostic was put together, or an anagram, and the proper fashion for congratulatory verses. A few women poets had appeared, but the French "blue stockings" were quoted in derision. Still, it had occurred to other women beside Mrs. Adams that the mothers of sons trained for perilous times needed to be intelligent, at least.
For the first time Annis was thrown with a variety of girls near her own age. None of them were like Varina—but, then, they were not like each other. How strange there should be so many different kinds of people in the world! It amazed her.
Jaqueline was much interested in her unfolding. There was a delicious quaintness about her that contact with Madame Badeau brought out. She had some very clear ideas too, and there was so much to write about.
"I shall have to send a letter to mamma one week and to Charles the next," she said sagely. "Then I shall not tell the same things over."
"That is an excellent idea. You are a bright little girl," returned Jaqueline with a smile.
"And it will save my own time. Jaqueline, can't we go to Washington some time and really see it? One of the girls called me a country lass because I did not know about the streets and the way everything ran. And how queer they should be named after the letters and numbers! What will they do when the letters are exhausted?—and there are but twenty-six."
"There are the numbers, you know."
"But the numbers run criss-cross. Do you suppose they will go on as we work a sampler, make little letters and then Old-English text? One girl has the most beautifulOld-English alphabet worked in red silk, but it is very hard to tell the letters."
Jaqueline laughed. "No! I think they will take names then."
"They make up parties and go to Analostan Island. And, do you know, there are beautiful falls up the Potomac, ever so far!"
"Yes; they are beautiful, indeed; and we will get the doctor to take us up some time."
"Everything is so"—glancing around for a word—"so interesting. And there are so many people. I like it very much. Only if we could have mamma and Charles and papa! Then, it would be mean to crowd out Varina."
"We'll have the whole household at Christmas."
Louis was very much interested in the surprise and pleasure over everything, and he found Annis quite a delightful companion for walks. She was so eager to hear about the founding of the City.
"It has only come of age," said Louis. "For the cornerstone was laid in 1793."
"And there are cities in Europe over a thousand years old! Oh, what an old world it must be!"
"But we are a new country altogether. Then, we have much older cities."
"After all," she said reflectively, "the ground was here. And some of the houses and the people."
They were still working on the Capitol. Stonecutters and marble-dressers in their little sheds were a common sight.
A great many people went to Christ Church, which had been erected soon after the laying out of the City. Then there was old St. Paul's, that had stood nearly a century, built, as many other places were, of brick brought from England. Since that day many a secret had been learned,and during the last three years the United States had manufactured largely, though many people sighed for foreign goods.
There were two weeks in August when Madame Badeau went away for a little rest and change of air. Mrs. Collaston decided to spend a fortnight at Bladensburg, and though Aunt Jane cheerfully offered to keep Annis, Jaqueline insisted upon adding her to the party. Little Elizabeth Patricia, commonly called Bessie, and by her father Queen Bess, was thriving wonderfully.
Jaqueline had changed a good deal, but she was a greater favorite than ever, it seemed, and had no end of admirers. One of them, a very popular and well-to-do gentleman, made her an offer of marriage.
"Are you really going to stay single forever?" exclaimed her sister. "I wouldn't take Roger Carrington now if he asked me again. A man who cannot overlook a little tiff—though you did flirt shamefully, Jaqueline! But it doesn't much matter. I observe the men are just as ready to be flirted with again. Only don't wait too long, and don't pass by the good chances."
Having made an excellent marriage herself, she considered that her counsel and advice were worth a good deal to her unmarried friends.
Roger Carrington seemed to have passed out of Jaqueline's radius, whether purposely or not. Ralston spent much of his time out of Washington, inspecting and planning fortifications. Jaqueline kept up a friendly, occasional correspondence with him, and he had been strongly interested about Charles' mishap.
She was much too proud to allow herself to think she still cared for Roger, yet she admitted in her secret heart she had seen no one to put in his place, though there might be men quite as worthy.
Dr. Collaston went up to Philadelphia for a few days,and learned that his worst fears in regard to Charles had been realized. The most celebrated surgeon at that time, who bade fair to do quite as much for the advancement of medicine as Dr. Benjamin Rush had done in his day, a Dr. Physic, had been noting the case carefully, and decided that only an operation could prevent a settled deformity. Charles was growing stronger in some respects, and when the weather became cooler this would be undertaken.
He told the elders, but they kept Annis in ignorance. She went back to school; and, though she had been small for her age, seemed suddenly to shoot up and outgrow everything.
"And I shall not be little Annis any longer. I suppose everybody does grow taller and older. And now I am past thirteen. When shall I be old enough to curtsey to Mrs. Madison?"
"Oh, you can do that at any time. And since Varina has gone to Charleston to visit Dolly Floyd, you ought to have some indulgence. She has been to a reception at the Governor's."
The election of Madison for a second term had been largely the result of the victories that had thrilled the nation. The navy was springing into existence as if by magic. Some fine English ships had been captured and graced by the Stars and Stripes, and were doing brilliant work under their new colors.
TheConstellationcame up the Potomac, gayly decorated with flags and bunting, and Captain Stewart gave a grand dinner, at which the President and his wife and Mrs. Madison's son, then a handsome and elegantly bred young man, were among the most distinguished guests. Louis had obtained cards for himself and lady through Judge Todd.
"You look pretty enough to be married," said Anniswhen she saw Jaqueline in her pretty pink gauze gown, the lace on it run with silver threads, and her dainty slippers with silver buckles set with brilliants that certainly did twinkle. The dinner was spread with every luxury the season afforded, and enhanced by the brilliant lights and profusion of cut-glass with its sparkling points. While the elders sat on the quarterdeck surrounded by some of the chief men of the nation, beneath an awning of red, white, and blue danced the belles and beaus.
Lieutenant Ralston had come late, but he was in time for the dancing. When he caught sight of Jaqueline he made his way over to her.
"It has been so long since I have seen you!" he exclaimed. "And I really had not thought of meeting you to-night, but I shall be in Washington for a fortnight or more. And gay, pretty Patty has settled into a pattern wife and mother! Does she read you lectures?"
"Sometimes," returned Jaqueline, smiling.
"Tell me about all the others. It seems an age since I have heard of any of you."
"Then if you make such a little account of my letters I shall not write you any more."
"Nay, do not be so cruel. You can hardly call them letters, they are so brief. Still, I am glad to get them, and feel anxious about the poor little boy. You think he will recover?"
"Dr. Physic holds out hopes of a successful termination. But it will be very slow."
"And that dainty little Annis? You are mothering her? Do you know, your charming solicitude made me smile. Was she much homesick after her mother?"
"Only a little at first. She goes to school and is wonderfully interested."
"And Varina? Our little wasp?" laughingly.
"Varina is spending the winter with Dolly. You know she married a Floyd connection. He has been elected a member of the State legislature this winter. Varina is quite a young lady. We Masons have a trick of growing up soon."
"And your grandmother? How fares it with her?"
Jaqueline smiled inwardly at this mark of respect, and retailed the little happenings at the Pineries. He listened attentively when Marian's name was mentioned, and made no bitter comment. Was it utter indifference?
"This is our dance," he said, offering his hand; and they glided down the polished deck. Then someone else came for her, and she saw very little more of him until he marched up to bid her good-by and assure her he should call speedily.
"What a fine fellow Ralston has made!" Louis said as they were returning home. "He has half a mind to go in the navy, he tells me. They are winning all the glory. But he is very eager about the defenses of Washington. I do wonder if there is any real danger?"
"Oh, I hope not!" anxiously.
"No; we do not want the war brought to our door."
"New York or Boston will offer greater attractions. The enemy is raging over the loss of theGuerrière, and threatens desperate revenge. Oh, we are safe enough!"
Annis was eager to hear all about the ball. Was it prettier because it was on a ship? And wasn't Jaqueline glad to see Lieutenant Ralston again? Did anyone have a more beautiful frock?
"Oh, yes!" laughed Jaqueline.
"But no one was any prettier, I am sure," she said confidently.
The enthusiasm over the victories was running high. The news came of Commodore Decatur's famous victory off the Canary Islands, when he captured theMacedonianafter an hour and a half of terrific fighting, with the loss of only five men killed and seven wounded. TheUnited Statesbrought her prize into New York amid great rejoicing.
The news was hailed in Washington with the utmost enthusiasm. It so happened that the evening had been selected for a brilliant naval ball, to celebrate the two other victories, and as a compliment to Captain Stewart. Ralston had been in a few days before with invitations for the Collaston household.
"I almost wish I was grown up," said Annis wistfully. "Can't little girls ever see anything?"
"Why, she ought to go," declared Ralston. "There may not be such another event until peace is declared, and if we go on this way, it must be, ere long. But it will be a great thing to remember in years to come. Think of the old ladies who saw our beloved Washington and the heroes of the Revolution, how glad they are to talk it all over! Oh, Annis must go, by all means!"
"But such a mere child!" said Patty.
"Well, she has eyes and ears. I will take her myself. Mistress Annis Mason, may I have the pleasure of escorting you to the grand naval ball? It will give me a great deal of pleasure, I assure you. I am a bachelor, fancy free, so no one's heart will be broken."
He rose as he said this, and crossed the room to where Annis was sitting, leaning her arm on Jaqueline's knee.
The child colored and glanced up in a puzzled manner.
"Well—why do you not answer?" said Patty in amusement. "Madame Badeau ought to train you in polite deportment."
"Can I say just what I should like?" a little timidly, glancing from one sister to the other.
"Yes," answered Patty laughingly. "Yes," said Jaqueline a little more gravely.
Annis rose and made a formal little courtesy, holding the side of her skirt with charming grace.
"It will afford me the greatest pleasure to accept your invitation, Lieutenant Ralston," she said in a stately and dignified manner.
"Thank you! That is very handsomely done. After this show of proper and ceremonious behavior you cannot refuse her permission?" turning to the elders.
"We are vanquished, certainly," admitted Patty. "Now you may be good enough, perhaps, to tell us what she must wear."
He glanced her over. "Some simple white frock," he said. "Then you might tie a red ribbon in her hair, and put on her a blue sash, and she will be the national colors."
"Luckily her hair isn't golden or red or black, so we shall not startle anyone."
"Now, remember there is no white feather to be shown," said the lieutenant. "You may be a soldier's wife some day."
Annis blushed.
Later, when she was alone with Jaqueline, she put her arms about the elder's neck.
"Dear Jaqueline," she said with a tender accent, "do you think you will like my going to the ball? If it isn't quite right I will stay at home. And are you sure the lieutenant was in earnest?"
"There is no reason why you should not go, except that children are not generally taken to balls. And it will be a grand thing for you to remember."
Annis kissed her, much relieved.
"I do so want to go," she returned after a little pause.
And that morning the news was announced by an extra from the office of theNational Intelligencer. People went about in high spirits. As soon as the twilight appearedilluminations sprang up at many important points. Private houses were aglow from every window, and more than one flag waved. Washington was full of gayety and rejoicing. And some who did not go to the ball had strains of patriotic music to cheer the passer-by.
Entertainments began early. Tomlinson's Hotel was soon filled with guests, the beauty and fashion of the city. The captured flags of theAlertandGuerrièrewere arranged over a sort of dais where Mrs. Madison and the Cabinet ladies sat, while the secretaries stood about them. There was a host of military and naval men. Gold lace and epaulettes and swords gleamed with every movement, while women were lovely in satins and velvets and laces. Mrs. Madison wore a handsome gray velvet, trimmed with yellow satin and lace, and on her head a filmy sort of turban with some short white plumes. A neckerchief of fine soft lace rested lightly on her shoulders, but displayed the still beautiful throat and neck. The little curls across her forehead were still jet-black, and though women powdered and rouged, she was one of the few who "wore a natural complexion," said a newspaper correspondent.
One and another made a bow to her and passed on. Dr. Collaston and his wife, Jaqueline and a handsome young naval officer, and then Lieutenant Ralston and his young charge. Annis was a little bewildered. She had seen Mrs. Madison in the carriage, and at times walking about the grounds at the White House; but this really awed her, and a rush of color came to her fair face. Mrs. Madison held out her hand, and gave her a kindly greeting.
"What a pretty child!" she said to one of the ladies. "The American colors, too. How proud the lieutenant was of her! I remember now that Miss Jaqueline Mason is quite a belle. Perhaps it is her sister."
"That was beautifully done, Annis," whispered the lieutenant. "Now there is a friend of mine, a young midshipman, that you must meet. Will it be out of order for you to dance, I wonder? And there is Captain Hull. You must see all the heroes, so you can tell the story over your grandchildren."
It seemed to Annis that everyone must be a hero. There was the young middy, a Mr. Yardley, who did not look over sixteen, and who was going out on his first cruise next week.
"Has Miss Mason any relatives in the war?"
How queer "Miss Mason" sounded! She looked about to see who was meant. The young man complimented her on her colors. He had a brother, a lieutenant on theConstitution, and two cousins in the army on the frontier. We should gain the victory again, as we did in the Revolution. As a boy he used to be sorry he had not lived then, but this made amends. Only, nothing could compensate for not having seen Washington, the hero of them all.
Presently the dancing began. Mrs. Collaston and Jaqueline were both engaged, but Jaqueline put Annis in charge of a charming middle-aged woman whose daughters were dancing, and who, being a Virginian and residing at Yorktown, could recall all the particulars of the surrender of Lord Cornwallis.
Then Annis had her promised dance with the lieutenant. It was like a bit of fairyland. She thought Cinderella could not have been any happier with the prince. Afterward Mr. Yardley came, though by this time the floor was pretty well crowded. He was about to lead her back to Jaqueline, who was talking with Mrs. Todd, when she stopped suddenly and put out her hand.
"Oh!" she cried, then turned rosy-red.
"Is it—why, it is little Annis Bouvier! Child, howyou have grown! Do they let you go to balls as young as this?"
"I wanted to so much. And it is beautiful! They are all here—"
There was a sudden commotion. Half a dozen gentlemen cut off their retreat. Then a whisper went round the room, growing louder and louder, and cheers sounded in the hallway.
"Ensign Hamilton with the captured flag!"
Secretary Hamilton rose, and the throng made way for him. Just at the doorway they met, the son with dispatches from Commodore Decatur and the captured colors of theMacedonian. A cheer almost rent the room. And as he advanced his mother met him with a clasp of wordless joy.
The President had been detained on some important business. But the procession made its way to the dais where the ladies were sitting, and the trophy of victory was unfurled amid loud acclamations. The band played "Hail, Columbia!" and when it ceased the young man modestly made a brief speech. The dispatches were for the President; the flag he laid at Mrs. Madison's feet—the flag that was next of kin to that of theGuerrière.
The enthusiasm was so great that the dancing stopped. The flag was raised to a place beside that of the other two trophies. Old veterans wiped their eyes, the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and more than one voice had a break in it.
Annis stood breathless. Mr. Carrington towered above her, and he could barely see; but he had heard the story in the hall, and was repeating it. The clasp of her soft hand touched him.
"If you want to go nearer," he said to Mr. Yardley, "I will take care of Miss Annis. I am an old friend of the family."
"It would be hopeless to think of getting her to her sister's just now. Yes—I should like to see young Hamilton."
"That is excuse enough for anyone," and Carrington smiled, bowing a polite dismissal.
"I am so glad to find you!" Annis said with childlike simplicity. "We have missed you so much. Where have you been all this long time?"
"We? Who?" He bowed his head a little.
"Charles and I. And do you know Charles is ill and in the doctor's hands at Philadelphia?"
"No; I have been away three months—up on the northern frontier and in Boston. Poor Charles! Is he likely to recover?"
"He was to come home at Christmas, but he can't now," and she sighed a little. "And papa too," irrelevantly thinking of his earlier question. "We were all sorry."
"I don't think everybody could have been," after a little pause.
She raised her soft, beseeching eyes. "Are you still angry with Jaqueline?" she asked. "I am sure she is sorry. Patty teases her and says she will be an old maid because—"
Then Annis hung her pretty head.
"What makes you think she was sorry?"
He looked down into the eyes with an infinite persuasion, and his voice had an accent hard to resist.
"Oh!—because—she was sometimes so sad and sweet, and used to go walking by herself in the twilight. Occasionally she would let me come. I can't quite tell—there are some things you feel. And it isn't right to keep angry forever."
The child's tone was more assured. She was on firmer moral ground.
"Then you think I have been angry long enough?" It had seemed years to him.
"Papa was very angry and scolded Jaqueline, but didn't keep angry. Charles and I have been so sorry! Oh, you will make up friends?"
"You love Charles as much as ever, then? Happy Charles! When you have love you have all the best of life."
"Then why don't you ask Jaqueline to love you again? Oh, I am sure she would!"
There was a sweet seriousness in the face and the tone, the innocence of the child.
"And why didn't you go to Philadelphia?" he asked presently.
"I wanted to. Don't you think it hard for a little girl to be giving up her mother continually? But if it is best—They could not take me, and Jaqueline said she would be like mamma, and love me and care for me. She is ever so sweet. And Patty and the baby are delightful. I like Dr. Collaston too. And I am going to school to a queer, delightful little French woman, Madame Badeau. And the French I used to know out in Kentucky all comes back to me."
"Yes," smilingly. "I have seen Madame Badeau." The throng was beginning to move. "Suppose we go up and have a look at this wonderful flag? I think war terrible; but it is good to be on the winning side, and certainly our poor sailors have suffered long enough. When we are a terror to our enemies they will learn to respect us. But, thank Heaven, you know nothing about the terrible side here! May God keep you safely!"
She raised her eyes with a grave half-smile as if to thank him for his benison.
The President had come in now. The band was playing patriotic tunes, several inspiriting Scotch pieces, forjust now no one seemed anxious to dance. Ensign Hamilton was one of the heroes of the occasion, and the pretty women were saying all manner of complimentary things to him. There in the throng stood Lieutenant Ralston and Midshipman Yardley, and, yes, there were Dr. and Mrs. Collaston.
Jaqueline was out of the group, listening to a vivid account of the taking of theGuerrièreand the gala time there had been in old Boston Town.
Patricia turned and espied Annis, who held her head up proudly and looked as if she were used to going to balls every week of her life.
"Oh, Mr. Carrington!" reaching over a cordial hand. "What a stranger you are! I felt I ought to go in search of Annis, but I knew she was in good hands. Thank you for your care of her. Wasn't it all grand? Are you not proud of your country?"
"We have worked wonders on the sea, considering how unprepared we were and the strength of the enemy. I am no croaker, but we are not through yet. Heaven grant that we may be successful to the end! After all, we are a young nation; and we have fought in almost a new cause, the enlightenment of the people, not the glory or gain of kings."
"Annis, come and curtsey to some of these heroes. She is over-young for such a place as this, but it will be a proud thing to remember."
The throng shifted again. Ralston stepped aside and encountered Mr. Carrington.
"Roger, old fellow,"—and though his tone was low it had a cordial heartiness,—"in this time of gratulation private feuds ought to be buried. You were wrong in your surmise, as I told you then. Between myself and Miss Mason there has never been anything but the sincerest friendliness. Still, I asked her to marry me andshe declined. Hearts are not so easily caught in the rebound, after all. And though she has many admirers she has not been won. Let us be friends again in her honor, for her sake."
"For our own sake, Ralston. If we are ever to make a grand country we must be united man to man. There is need enough of it. A scene like this will go far toward healing many dissensions, public and private. And I beg you to pardon what I said out of a sore and desperate heart."
"Friends!" repeated Ralston joyously.
It was true that the victories did go far toward healing dissensions. While the indignation against England had run high, there was a bitter opposition in some quarters to every act of the administration. There was jarring in the Cabinet as well as outside. The larger cities had never cordially approved of the Capital at Washington. They had had rejoicing over successes, and now it was the turn of the newer city.
Mrs. Madison's drawing room always presented a gay and beautiful aspect. Many strangers came to the city. Washington Irving paid a second visit, and was most graciously received and became a great favorite. Society took on a finer aspect. Poets appeared, mostly patriotic ones; and though to-day we may smile over them, their sincerity moved the hearts of their readers and won applause, inspired enthusiasm.
Jaqueline Mason had taken another ramble around the room when she saw Roger Carrington talking to hersister. The band played a grand march, and everybody fell into line, as this seemed to befit the occasion. Then some of the guests began to disperse, as the President, who looked very weary, and his smiling, affable wife, with so many more years of youth on her side, set the example.
Carrington loitered with the Collaston party, debating whether he should meet Jaqueline. It would break the ice, perhaps. Patty had been so cordial. She had taken on so many pretty married airs that were charming. She talked about her house and her lovely baby, how Annis had grown, and how sweet it was of her to be content without her mother, and how sad it was about Charles. Louis joined them, full of enthusiasm. And at last Jaqueline and her escort came up.
"We thought we should have to go home without you," Patty said gayly. "Come; it is late. The carriage has been here waiting ever so long."
Jaqueline bowed to her old lover. Major Day, in his military trappings, was quite an imposing figure, and how beautiful she was! She had been a pretty young girl when he first met her; she was young still, in that early dawn of womanhood before the bud had quite unfolded. Had he expected to see her faded and worn in this brief period?
They all wished each other good-night.
Why did he not "ask Jaqueline to love him again"? He was not as sure as Annis had been. And now everything was different. Patty was already quite a figure in society, and Jaqueline could have her choice of lovers, husbands.
Annis longed to tell over her little episode of the meeting, but there seemed no time. Jaqueline was always going out and having company. Louis teased Annis when he saw her.
"Two conquests in one night for a little girl!" he exclaimed."Oh, I saw you dancing with the young midshipman, and then on high parade with Mr. Carrington, who looked grave and grand, as if he was escorting about a lady of high degree. I am afraid Madame Badeau will make a woman of you too fast. Do you not think it would be better to send her over to the convent to steady her, Patty?"
"Oh, I don't want to be shut up! I should run away. And I like the girls so much. The convent looks dreary. And they can walk only in that high-walled garden. I want the whole big outside world."
Louis laughed and pinched her cheek.
If Mr. Carrington wouldn't come and ask Jaqueline again, no one could do anything. Annis sighed in her tender heart, and felt that it was better not to retail the confidence.
Mrs. Madison's dinners were quite the events of the winter, and her levees were delightful entertainments. All parties began to harmonize more warmly; perhaps it was the gracious tact and affability of the hostess. TheNational Intelligencerespoused the cause of the Madisons enthusiastically, and congratulated the nation on his re-election. Roger Carrington began to haunt the entertainments he had so long shunned, or at the utmost merely devoted a few moments to them. Of course he met Jaqueline, who was simply indifferent, a much harder condition to overcome than if she had shown hauteur or resentment. And, then—in a worldly point of view she could do better.
For Washington, in a certain way, was prospering in spite of the war and privations. There was a feeling of permanence, as if the Capital really would be great some day. Houses were springing up, streets lengthening out, mudholes being filled up, pavements placed, and every year a little was added to the home of the nation.
The time ran gayly around. The winter had seemed unusually brief. March came in again, and with it the second inauguration of James Madison, when the Capitol grounds were thronged as never before. The President was paler and thinner, and though it had been a triumph for his party, he sighed often for the quiet and rest of Montpellier.
Mrs. Madison, in rose-colored satin and ermine, looked "every inch a queen," said the papers of the day. And happier than some of the queens off or on European thrones, even if she had carried a great burden the last two years. And the ladies of the republican court certainly were not lacking in beauty or grace. The foreign ministers and their wives, in all their brave array, hardly excelled them; and the army and navy were in force.
Annis went to the levee. It was quite a crush, but a pleasure to the child to see the brilliant throng. Louis was her escort, and he was proud of her refined and lady-like manners. The French grace in her nature had been assiduously cultivated by the woman who still thought there was no place like France.
"We will go home early," Patty said. "Jaqueline is to stay and help entertain. She's getting to be such a grand lady that I suppose she will be marrying a senator or a secretary next, and perhaps be Mrs. President herself. She and Mrs. Seaton are hand and glove." Mrs. Seaton was the pretty wife of the editor of theNational Intelligencer. "But I am tired, and the doctor will be out all night, so we will get some beauty sleep."
She sent the servant for the carriage. One of the guests escorted them through the spacious hall and out on the portico. A merry party were coming up, and Annis, turning aside for them, slipped, landing in a little heap on the stone pavement. Patty uttered a cry.
A gentleman at the foot of the steps picked her up before Patty or Mr. Fenton could reach her.
"Oh, Mr. Carrington!" cried Patty; and now the other guests ran down to see what injury they had done, quite alarmed at the incident.
Annis drew a long sigh and flung her arms about her rescuer's neck, quite ignorant who it might be, but still frightened.
"No, I do not think I am hurt," in a shaken voice.
"Take her to the carriage, please," entreated Patty. "And, Mr. Fenton, do not mention it to my sister nor my brother, if you see them. Good-night, and thanks."
Mr. Carrington carried her to the edge of the walk and then put her down.
"I feel shaky," she began, with a tremulous laugh. "But I am quite sure I have not broken any bones."
Patty stepped in first. Mr. Carrington assisted Annis, and then studied the pale face.
"Do you not think I had better accompany you?" he asked solicitously.
"But you were just going in to pay your respects to Mrs. Madison—" declared Patty.
"I shall have four years more to do it in," he returned. "Where is the doctor? Yes, I had better be sure of your safety."
"He is out on business. Really, he is getting to be quite hard-worked. And if you would not mind. I should take it as a favor. Then we can see if Annis is really injured."
He sprang in, and the coachman closed the door.
"It was very funny to take that flying leap, as if I were a bird," and Annis could not forbear laughing. "What did I look like, dropping at your feet? I was so bundled up that I couldn't save myself. There is a bump swelling up on my forehead."
"Lucky if there is nothing worse," responded Patty.
Annis was carried up the steps and deposited on the drawing-room sofa. Patty took off her wraps, and made her stand up and try all her limbs. She began to feel quite natural and over her fright. There was a lump on her forehead, but her hood had protected the skin.
"I am delighted to think it is no worse," the gentleman said.
"And it is a pity to have disturbed you. But the doctor being out, I felt nervous; and a friend is so good at such a time. I am sure we are much indebted for your kindness."
Annis put out her hand and clasped his. "I am glad it was you," she said with simple thankfulness.
Then they talked of Charles. He had been put in a plaster jacket. Dr. Collaston was quite sure the best was being done, but it would be spring before he could be brought home.
Patty was very cordial at the parting, and invited him to call.
"And see what happens to me next," said Annis.
"You may be sure I shall want to know."
He did not go back to the levee. Jaqueline was there, being admired and flattered. Now and then he heard complimentary things said about her, and young men sent her verses, quite an ordinary event at that time. She had forgotten, and he remembered only too well. Annis must have been wrong, yet he had hugged the child's innocent prattle to his heart. He knew now he had not ceased to love her, yet he had thought in his pride that if she could love Ralston he would not stand in the way. His jealousy had been of the larger, finer type.
With all these opportunities she had accepted no lover. Her attractions were of a more refined kind than whenshe had made her first plunge into gayety. Was there something—No, he hardly dared believe it. He had been imperious and arbitrary.
He had not the courage to go the next day and inquire after Annis. He knew it was a polite duty. He walked down past Madame Badeau's little gray house when school was being dismissed. There was no Annis among the girls. What if she had been injured more than they thought! He would stop and inquire at the office. There were several men talking eagerly with the doctor, so he strolled around the corner. Yes, that was Jaqueline sitting with her face turned from the window, chatting to someone. The proud poise of the head, the shining dark curls just shadowing her white neck, the pink ear like a pearly sea shell, and then her slim white hand held up in some gesticulation, and the smile that made a dainty dimple. No, he would not interrupt her; so he walked on. If she had turned her head—but she did not.
He was very busy the next day. When he left the office a carriage full of young girls passed him. Some of them nodded; he was not quite sure whethershedid or not. Now was his opportunity.
The day had been rather raw, with a fitful sunshine, but now it was clouding over. He walked briskly, and held his head erect, although he felt rather cowardly at heart. Why should he not put his fate to the touch, like a man, or dismiss her from his mind? He sauntered up the stoop and touched the knocker lightly—so lightly, indeed, that Julius, amid the clatter of Dinah's pots and pans, did not hear it.
The carriage stopped. It was rather dusky now, and a tree hid the figure at the door until Jaqueline was coming up the steps. His heart beat furiously. He turned, and they faced each other.
Her hat, with the great bow on the top, was tied under her chin with rose-colored ribbons. A satin collar edged with swan's down stood up around her throat and almost touched the pink cheeks. The great soft, dark eyes glanced out in surprise—they could flame in anger too, he knew that.
He had thought more than once how gradually he would lead up to that old time, and learn if she still loved him. And she had resolved upon a becoming humility on his part. He should admit that he had misjudged her, that he had been selfish, arbitrary, suspicious, jealous, and—oh, how many faults she had counted upon her white fingers!
"Jaqueline," he said almost under his breath—"Jaqueline!"—and it seemed as if his voice had never been so sweet, a fragrant shower falling on a long-parched heart. He was trying to find her hand; did it come out of the great muff quite as broad as her slim figure, all soft and warm, to be pressed to his lips?
"Are you very angry still?" she inquired in the dearest, most beseeching tone.
"Angry?" He had forgotten all about it. He had been fatuous, senseless, to think of such a thing!
"Because—" in a fascinating cadence of pardon.
"I have not had a happy moment." His voice was husky with emotion, with the love that he had told himself a hundred times was dead, and a hundred times had disbelieved.
"I had given you up. Not that I had ceased—to care. And that night of the ball, when the flags came, I was quite sure you loved me no longer."
"I shall love you always. I was mad, foolish, jealous—"
"And I did flirt. Oh, I was such a vain little thing then! I am better now. I do not think it so fine to havea host of men making love to you. Only you were wrong about—"
"Ralston? Yes."
"But you must know, hedidask me to marry him. I do not think it was for love."
"I am glad it was not. I told him he owed you an offer of marriage."
"But he did not. There had never been any foolish softness between us. A Virginian girl may flirt, but she doesn't give away the sweetness that only a lover is entitled to. And what if Ihadloved him?"
"If you had loved him I should have wished you Godspeed, after a while."
"But you couldn't have done it at first?"
"No, I couldn't." The hearty tone was convincing.
It was quite dark now. He put his arm about her and drew her nearer, nearer, and ceased to kiss her hand.
"Oh, my darling; here I am keeping you out in the cold! Are you almost frozen? And I came to hear about Annis. I have been wondering if I should ever meet you where I could say a word—"
"Annis is your very good friend. So was Charles. And papa was fearfully angry at my folly. They were all on your side."
"And now you are on my side?"
"Yes," with a soft, happy little laugh.
Then he knocked again. This time Julius heard, and answered.
Annis was sitting on the floor, playing with the baby, who was laughing and cooing.
"I thought you wouldn't come—ever!" she said vehemently. "I had a headache yesterday, and Patty wouldn't let me go to school, but the doctor said it didn't amount to anything. It was funny, though. Jaqueline, where did you find him?"
"On the stoop," and Jaqueline gave a queer little laugh. How soft and shining her eyes were, and her cheeks were like pink roses just in bloom. Annis felt something mysterious stirring in the air. Then Jaqueline ran away.
"Did you ask her?" Annis raised her clear eyes with a sweet, solemn light.
"Yes. Annis, you are to be my little sister."
"I shall grow big, more's the pity," she said sententiously. "And I hate to be big!"
He laughed at that.
The doctor had taken his wife over to Arlington, for he disliked to ride alone except when he was in great haste; and just as Dinah had begun to fume about supper they came in. Mr. Carrington had a warm welcome from them, and they all laughed over Annis' mishap. But when Jaqueline entered the story was told, as love stories always are; and they kept Roger to tea. No one came, for a cold, drizzling rain set in, and he had Jaqueline to himself.
"Still, she might have done a great deal better," said Dr. Collaston. "Jaqueline ought to go to some foreign court as the wife of a minister, she is so elegant. Or the wife of a secretary of state."
He had his desire years afterward, when Jaqueline and her husband went to the French court. Napoleon had been swept away by the hand of fate, and royalty sat on the throne.
Roger said they must go over and tell his mother the joyful news. Ralph's wife was a sweet home body, and she had a thriving son that was his great-grandmother's pride. But the mother's heart was strongly centered in her firstborn, and she had suffered keenly in his sorrows, though they had never talked them over. They had been too deep, too sacred.
"Only love him, my dear," she said to Jaqueline."There are some people who think you can love a person too much; but when they have gone beyond your ken you are most glad of the times you gave them overflowing measure." The young girl knew then she was forgiven.
Jaqueline was not less a favorite in society because she was an engaged young lady, but she was more circumspect; and certainly now Roger had nothing to complain of. Only life seemed too short ever to make up the lost months.
Annis was as happy as the lovers themselves. She was very companionable and never in the way. There was a curious ingrained delicacy about her. Dr. Collaston declared he was jealous. He and little Bessy ought to outweigh the regard for Mr. Carrington.
"But I knew him first. It's the longest friendship," glancing up archly.
"I have taken you to my heart and home—doesn't that count? And Mr. Carrington has no home."
Annis was not prepared for that argument. She could not seem ungrateful.
Spring came on apace. What a lovely season it was! Beautiful wild flowers sprang up at the roadsides, the trees and shrubbery put on infinite tints of green. The river, really majestic then, making a broad lake after its confluence with the eastern branch; the marshy shores, dotted with curious aquatic plants that had leave to grow undisturbed and bloom in countless varieties, if not so beautiful; the heights of Arlington, with the massive pines, hemlocks, and oaks, and flowering trees that shook great branches of bloom out on the air like flocks of flying birds, and filled every nook and corner with fragrance. And as the season advanced the apricot, pear, and peach came out, some of them still in a comparatively wild state, finer as to bloom than fruit.
There lay pretty Alexandria, with the leisurely aspectall towns wore at that day. Great cultivated fields stretched out as far as the eye could see. Diversified reaches in hill and woodland broke the surface into a series of beguiling pictures, as if one could wander on for ever and ever.
And then, at the bend of the river, Mount Vernon in its peaceful silence; a place for pilgrimages even at that time, and destined, like Arlington, to become more famous as the years rolled on. But while the former was shrouded in reverent quiet, Arlington was the scene of many a gay gathering. If Mrs. Madison sometimes wearied of the whirl of pleasure so different from her Quaker girlhood and early married life, the ease with which she laid down the trappings and ceremonies of state and adapted herself to the retirement of Montpellier showed that she had not been wedded to the glitter and adulation, and that the ease and comfort of country life were not distasteful to her. While not a strongly intellectual woman, nor the mother of heroes, there is something exquisitely touching in her devotion to her husband's mother in her old age, and then to her husband through the years of invalidism. It seems a fitting end to a well-used life that in her last years she should come back to the dear friends of middle-life, still ready to pay her homage, and to the new city that had run through one brief career, to be as great a favorite as ever.
And now, when balls and assemblies began to pall on the pleasure-seekers,—and one wonders, in the stress of the war, how so much money could have been spent on pleasure and fine-dressing,—excursions up the Potomac to the falls, so beautiful at that time, were greatly in vogue. Carriages and equestrians thronged the road, followed by great clumsy covered wagons and a regiment of slaves, who built fires and cooked viands that were best hot, or made delicious drinks, hot and cold.