CHAPTER X.
THE ROMANCE OF A POOR OLD MAID.
If ever a man had reason to be disappointed at the ways of Providence,that man was Mark Small, owner of the mill, whose earthly possessionshad vanished in fire and smoke. Twenty years before, he had wanderedover from Foxtown, a sunburnt lad, with all his wardrobe--a cottonshirt, homespun pants, and a straw hat, stuck loosely upon his thinframe,--and the sad recollection of the death-bed of his father, adissipated laborer, firmly fixed in his memory. In search of a job hestumbled into Capt. Thompson’s kitchen, where he was treated to a good,warm meal, and afterwards given charge of the captain’s “cattle;” _i.e._ a lively young horse, and a quiet, orderly cow,--for the captain’sdomestic establishment was then on a very small scale. This workcontented him for five years; when a desire to become a tin-peddler,induced the captain to equip him with a horse and wagon, and to sethim off upon his travels. A very promising year at this business wasended by the disappearance of his whole stock from the breaking of abridge; and the bankruptcy of that concern was the consequence. Thenhe tried book-peddling with considerable success, until one night thebarn, in which he and his library had taken shelter from a storm, wasstruck by lightning and burned; he barely escaping with his life.Then he took to farming;--cut his leg with a scythe, and was laid upall winter. So fast failures followed all his attempts to rise in theworld, that he jestingly asserted he must have been named Mark, thatmisfortune might make no mistake in marking him for its victim. Atlength he sought employment at the paper mill, where he prospered; andin time, by careful saving and shrewd management, was able to purchasethe whole concern. And now fire had again made him penniless. Yet hesat there, lounging on a stone, humming a tune, and whittling a stick,as the twilight was gathering, and the flickering flames dying out ofall that remained of his earthly possessions. He was a tall, thin man,with hollow cheeks, a ring of grizzled beard encircling his throat,a long, sharp nose, and a pair of rambling, piercing eyes, which werenow fastened upon the fast blackening heap before him. So deeply was heinterested in the last flashes of his expiring treasures, that he wasunconscious of the approach of footsteps, until a hand was laid uponhis shoulder.
“Mark, if it wasn’t the Lord’s doings, I should say that you’re theworst treated man in Cleverly.”
Mark started, and turned to see the sharp eyes of Hulda Prime lookinginto his eagerly. He was not quite sure, but he thought they lookedmoist and watery.
“Yes, Hulda, the old tune’s struck up again,”--by which Mark meant hisold follower, misfortune--“I’d kinder lost the hang of it, so longsince I’ve heeded it, but now it seems jist as natral as ‘auld langsyne.’”
“Mark, I’m real sorry for you. I don’t know as I’m welcome, but Icouldn’t help putting on my bunnet and coming over to see you, if ’twasonly for the sake of ‘auld lang syne’ you tell about.”
“Well, it’s real kind of you, Hulda; something I couldn’t expect; for Ihain’t treated you jest right, nohow.”
Aunt Hulda shivered; it couldn’t be with cold, for the warmth of thefailing embers was still powerful.
“Seems queer you should drop down on me jest then, Hulda; for I’ve beenkinder lookin’ back, and jest when you put your hand on my shoulder, Iwas thinkin’ of that day when horse, wagon, tin-ware and peddler, wentthrough the bridge together.”
Aunt Hulda shivered again, and somehow managed to slip down by Small’sside. He took no notice of the circumstance, but went on.
“Yes, you were stopping with Mrs. Johnson, helping her with herthanksgiving. You were a smart girl those days. Not handsome, butkinder good, wholesome lookin’. Don’t you remember my coming round tothe kitchen and jokin’ you about Cyrus Cheever, who was kinder makin’up to you; and I sung out to you, ‘Don’t have him, Hulda, wait for me.I’ll call when I come back, and pop the question.’ But I drove off andpopped through the bridge. Don’t you remember it?”
Hulda Prime answered not. Her elbows were on her knees, her chin in herhand, her eyes looking into the gleaming ruins, where broken walls andtwisted machinery, stood as monuments of destruction.
Remember it! had she not waited for that return? had she not taken toheart those playful words? And out of them woven a bright dream, andbuilt upon it year by year, the only romance of her solitary life.
“I meant it, Hulda, true as gospel I meant it.”
Hulda’s old heart gave a bound. It was no jest after all.
“Yes, if it hadn’t been for that accident, I should have come back andasked you Hulda, true as preaching. But the old tune struck up, and’twas no use trying to get up a wedding-dance to such music as that.And then when I got in luck again, somehow, I kinder got stuck up, andgot used to being my own master; but I did keep kinder thinkin’ on you.But what’s the use of my tellin’ you all this? we’ve got by, all thatnonsense, and I’m flat on by back agin, and as ‘poor as a puddock.’ Idon’t s’pose it’s very manly in me to go confessing this thing now;but I’ve kinder felt mean about it, and your comin’, so cleverly andneighborly like, when I’ve nobody to feel sorry for me, has sorter mademe do it.”
Mark Small shifted about uneasily in his seat, and whittled verybriskly, and tried to whistle; but he found it hard to “pucker,” andcould not muster a note.
Aunt Hulda shivered, and looked off into the ruins; and nursed her chinin her hand, and thought, “‘We’ve got by all that nonsense,’ have we?”Perhaps he had. She had not. No! Mark Small had been the idol of heryounger days--her hero--by no means a handsome one; neither brave orgifted; yet she had loved him dearly, without any hope of being hiswife, and now to find that he had thought of her, had wished to marryher, was happiness enough to pay for all the waiting, though they mightnever come any nearer to each other,--though, as he said, “they had gotby all that nonsense.”
She spoke at last.
“Mark, I’m glad you told me this. You needn’t be ashamed of it,neither. It’s a manly thing for you to do. It’s wiped out some hardthoughts I’ve had of you; for I want you to understand that if you’dcome back then, Cyrus Cheever, or any other man, would have been noconsequence at all.”
And because all that nonsense had died out, Hulda’s hand fell uponMark’s, and the ruined paper maker dropped his knife, and clasped it;and both gazed wistfully into the ruins, as the twilight darkened, andthe fires burned dimmer.
“Mark, I am so sorry for you. What will you do now? Your mill isruined. ’Twill take a heap of money to build it up again.”
“I don’t know, Hulda; but I ain’t a bit scart. I’ve begun too manytimes at the bottom of the ladder, to give up now.”
“Trust in the Lord, Mark, trust in the Lord.”
“That’s good, pious doctrine, Hulda, but I’m kinder unsteady onreligious pints, and I think the Lord does the handsome thing, when hegives us this world, with all its fruits and products, and store ofmaterials to work and weave, and brains to think, and arms to work; andwe serve him best when we take all this, on trust, and turn it over,and work it up, and do the very best we can, givin’ him the glory.That’s my religion, Hulda, and I mean to live by it. And if I can dothat, I ain’t afraid it won’t carry me over the river. I ain’t agoin’to trouble him to set me goin’, but jest look ’round, find suthin’ todo, and then pitch in with a will.”
Hulda groaned in spirit, but kept her lips fast closed. This was notexactly what Parson Arnold preached, and the self-reliant religion ofMark Small, had a shade of blasphemy to her orthodox ears.
“Hulda, I wouldn’t sit here any longer if I were you. It’s gettingdark and cold. I’ll walk down the road with you. It’s good of you tocome, and I think I feel better for getting to be good friends with youagain. I thought the old feelin’ had died out, but it hain’t, and ifever I get on my feet agen,--”
“Is that you, Mark Small?”
A burly form came between them and the light. Hulda recognized it, andsprang to her feet. Captain Thompson, the last man she expected to meetstood before them. She darted b
ack of Mark Small, out of the light. Thecaptain took no notice of her, supposing her one of the employees ofthe mill.
“Yes, Captain, here I am, watching the remains. The old mill’s donefor--and so am I.”
The captain came forward with outstretched hands.
“Mark, I am sorry for you. If it had been one of my ships, I couldn’thave felt worse. I’ve been out of town all day. Just heard of it. Sweptclean away, hey?”
“Yes, Captain, all gone. Some of the machinery might be saved, but itcan do no good. What’s the use of a horse, if you can’t get a stablefor him?”
“Well, the first thing to do is to build a stable for your iron horses.”
“It’s easy enough to talk, but where’s the money coming from?”
“How much will it take to set the mill agoing again?”
“Ten thousand dollars,” said Mark, with a very faint whistle.
“Ten thousand dollars!” echoed the captain, with a louder whistle. “Anyinsurance?”
“Not a cent’s worth!” said Mark; “it’s too risky. You see a littlecombustible cotton has swept away my fortune in a couple of hours.”
“Nobody hurt, was there?” queried the captain.
“No. Thanks to brave little Becky Sleeper, even the little cripplewas got out. That’s a brave girl, Captain. She’ll be the town talkto-morrow. Her skill in climbing and lifting stood her friend to-day.She’s a wide-awake Sleeper. Pity we hadn’t more tomboys like her about.”
“She of any use? you surprise me, Mark.”
Hulda drew a step nearer. With her pet for a subject, the conversationwas becoming interesting.
“Yes, while the building was in flames, she dragged Jenny York to theroof, and lowered her to the ground;” and Small related the adventure,painting in glowing colors the heroism of Becky Sleeper.
“Well, well,” said the captain at the close of the narrative, “I’m gladshe’s done something to redeem her bad character.”
Hulda Prime took another step forward, and clenched her fist. Thecaptain never knew how narrowly he escaped an assault. “The uglybrute!” she thought, “he should repent that speech.” But rememberingshe had no right to interfere in that place, she smothered her ruffledfeelings, and listened.
“And you say ten thousand dollars would be required to rebuild themill. A big sum, a very big sum;” and the captain rubbed his handthoughtfully.
“Yes, the stock’s gone clean; but my agent in Boston would fill me up,if I could only get the mill on its legs again.”
“Hem! pays good profit, hey?” asked the captain.
“Splendid! I had a customer for all I could make. Might rebuild onshares with my agents. I guess they’d come down with five thousand, ifI could show the other five.”
“Would they,” said the captain, lighting up, “then you’re all right,Small. All right! build it up and set it agoing.”
“Yes, but where’s my five thousand coming from?”
“Out of my pocket, Small. ’Tain’t the first time I’ve set you up inbusiness. And though you’ve failed many times, I’ve never lost a cent.You’ve paid me up principal and interest. And the money’s yours, whenyou want it to set things agoing. And if your agents won’t go in withyou, why, I will; though where so much money’s coming from, I can’texactly see.”
Small sprang to his feet, with eyes full of tears.
“Captain Thompson, you’re a friend worth having; you’ve put new lifeinto me. I thought my best friend was gone when the old mill burnt; butI’m all right now.” And he seized Captain Thompson’s hand and shook itwarmly.
“That’s all right, Small. Don’t say any more about it. And don’t let itleak out; I don’t like to have my doings known.”
“But they shall be known, you ugly old angel,” cried Hulda Prime,pouncing upon the Captain, and shaking his hand with energy.
“Hulda Prime, you here!” cried the astonished Captain; backing away andendeavoring to release his hand,--
“Yes, and I bless the Lord I am here, to see such a noble spirit.Captain Thompson, I’ve said hard things about you, and to your face,too; but I take ’em all back,--except about Harry--that I will stickto.”
Remembering what had been said about Harry, the Captain was not wellpleased at the reservation.
“Miss Prime, I am surprised to find you here,” began he, sternly.
“Well, you needn’t be. Mark Small and I are old friends, and so I ranover to console him and bid him trust in the Lord. And I guess he did,after all, for nobody else could have sent you here just in the nick oftime. You’re just splendid. Folks round here pity Miss Thompson becauseshe’s got such a brute of a husband. But they needn’t. You’re just asgood as you can be, and I’ve a great mind to hug you.”
The Captain grew red, and the Captain grew pale. He never felt in suchdeadly peril before.
“Come, Captain, shake hands and forgive me.”
She stretched out her hand. The Captain hesitated--then took it.
“You’ll never regret this night’s work as long as you live,--never! AndI’ll never go to sleep at night without a prayer for Captain Thompson.”
“Pray as much as you please, Hulda; I shall need it all. But if we areto be friends, not a word of what has been said to-night, in Cleverly.You understand?”
“If you insist on hiding your light under a bushel, I’m not mean enoughto kick it over without your consent. But it’s a shame. Everybody oughtto know what a good man you are.”
The Captain turned on his heel. “Good night, Hulda! Good night, Mark!I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Captain! You’ve made my sleep hearty to-night,” criedSmall.
“Good night, Captain. God bless you!” cried Hulda. And so they parted.
The Captain laughed to himself, as he marched into the road; but therehe met his son Harry. He pulled his hat over his eyes, and withoutrecognition passed him by as he would a stranger.
“The Lord sent him, Mark, to-night, you believe that?” said Hulda, asthe Captain disappeared.
“The Lord put a noble heart in his breast, and it turned him towardthe old mill. It’s the same thing, Hulda; but you and I look at it ina different light. Now I’ll beau you home. You don’t get a beau everynight, Hulda.”
“I never wanted but one, and he never happened along until to-night.”
They laughed merrily and started off, arm in arm, only a few steps, andthey came plump upon Harry Thompson.
“Hullo! Small, is that you? I came up to offer a little friendlyconsolation, but you seem in good spirits. What, Aunt Hulda, you here!What’s the meaning of this?” and Harry for once, looked very sober.
“The fire is all out, Harry,” said Small, confused.
“Is it?” said Harry, “There’s no danger of its rekindling.” He lookedhard at Aunt Hulda. He could not understand the situation. Until now,he supposed the two were strangers. Their confused manner was a puzzle,too.
“There’s no vestige of a flame there,” said Small, “not a spark. Alldead and gone.”
Harry looked as though there was a flame very near to Small, but saidnothing about it.
“I just ran up to look after you, Small, to see that you did not getdown in the mouth, and to say for my mother, that if you need help,there’s money in her purse at your command. Good night! Look out forthe sparks, Aunt Hulda.” And with a laugh he turned on his heel andwalked away.
“Wonder if the Lord sent him?” growled Mark. Aunt Hulda said nothing.The situation in which she found herself, was very awkward, and shetrudged along with her arm in Mark’s, very much like a lamb ledto slaughter. This could not continue long however, and e’er theyreached the Sleeper place, their tongues were loosened, and they foundthemselves building castles as airy and fleecy as lovers are accustomedto shape in the years allotted to youth and romance.
Running to Waste: The Story of a Tomboy Page 10
