by C. S. Guild
This affair of the kitten's, and waiting to look for her berries, whichViolet had hid among the bushes so safely she could not find themherself at first, delayed her so long that she almost flew the rest ofthe way; for when the old people went to market with their goods, theyalways came home tired and hungry, and were very glad of a cup of warmtea.
So she did not stop flying until a fire was made and the table set; andjust then she heard voices at the door.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE PRICE OF TOADY'S LEG.
Reuben and Mary had come; and glad enough Violet was to see them; butthis, like all her days, had been so long that she forgot to say a wordabout her flowers and the gilded cup; she could not remember back to themorning, until her mother asked if she knew whose birthday this was; andthen it all came back, and she gave more thanks and kisses than therehad been flowers in the cup.
"But why is it empty?" asked Reuben.
And Violet told about the carriage, and Narcissa, and Toady'smisfortune, and the kind doctor, who had waited to mend the mischief hisdaughter had done, and how he took her violets, leaving money in theirstead.
You should have seen the old people hold up their hands when Violetshowed them the coin she had only looked upon as so many bright stones.
Their marketing had not sold as well as usual, and the winter was to bea hard one for poor people, every one said; and they had been tellingeach other, as they came home, that if Providence had not taken care ofthem so well thus far, they should certainly expect to starve now.
And here stood Violet with six silver dollars! They could hardly believetheir eyes. Some fairy must have given it to the child.
True enough, old Reuben--the fairy LOVE!
The rich doctor might have given six times as much, and never have feltthe loss enough to remember it. But I cannot tell you how many comfortshis money procured for the poor old people.
Mary had a new warm gown, and Reuben a pair of rubbers and some flannel,and Violet a blanket shawl, and what was left they spent in tea, rice,flour, and molasses.
Every afternoon, when the old lady sat down to sew that winter, feelingwarmer than she had for many a cold month, and seeing so beautifully,too, from the light that came in at a new window they had bought for thehut where they lived, Mary would bless the rich man, and the good childGod had given her.
And every time Reuben waded through the snow towards town, and did notwet his feet, nor come home with rheumatism, as he used to the winterbefore, he, too, would think of the rich man, and thank God for hislittle daughter, and wonder if ever _any_ one had so many blessings ashe.
Violet too, with her thick, warm shawl, could go to the district school;and very soon she learned more out of books than Reuben and Mary hadknown in all their lives.
CHAPTER XIX.
GOING TO SCHOOL.
Violet's years were like her days--busy and joyous; for they were spentin making all about her happy, and in finding new wonder and beauty inthe world.
Winter evenings she would sit on her cricket at the old people's feet,and amuse them by telling her adventures on the way to and from school,or the wonderful things she had learned there.
Perhaps it had stormed, and she would describe how beautiful it was tosee every thing folded in a mantle of white snow, and to run through thepearly dust, and scatter it far and wide, and to see it gathering like aworld of blossoms in the branches of the dark pine trees.
Then she would tell how, when it cleared away, every thing shone, andglittered, and stood so still in the cold, blue air, and she could nothear her own footsteps any more than those of the squirrels that dartedalong the stone wall, and how she had sung, and shouted, and clapped herhands for company.
Or she had found a half-frozen bird, and, picking it up with her ownhalf-frozen hands, had warmed it to life, while she felt its littlefrightened heart beating beneath her shawl--that heart and her own theonly moving things in the wide, white silence.
And then how glad it made her feel when her bird sprang forth into thesky again, and she watched his shadow circling round and round her,until he alighted in a tree just as she passed underneath, and, with hisfluttering wings sent down a shower of snow flakes all over her.
This, she supposed, was the only way he had of telling how well andstrong he felt, and how he loved her for what she had done to him.
But Violet could hardly make the old folks believe what she heard atschool about far-off countries and strange animals--snakes large enoughto crush a horse and rider in their folds, and fishes so huge that halfa dozen people could sit inside of them.
Every child knows these things now, and has pictures of them in hisbooks; but when Reuben and Mary were young there were few schools; andthey, poor people, had to work instead of study.
On summer mornings, after her work was done, Violet would bring homeroots from her favorite wood, and plant them about the house, until youwould hardly know it, it was so buried in beautiful green vines.
You could not have made Violet think there was a pleasanter home onearth than hers, when the clematis was starred all over with whiteblossoms, and the honeysuckle she had trained over the door was full ofbright yellow flowers, and the hop vine hung full of its beautifulcones, and among all shone the bright pink wild roses, and the whole airwas sweet with her own favorite violets.
Birds built nests within the vine, and hatched their young, and sangloudly and sweetly to their friends in the hut as often as they cared tohear.
CHAPTER XX.
OLD REUBEN DEAD.
Nothing pleased Reuben half as much as to sit in the shadow of thevines, watch the flowers grow, and feel that all this beauty wasViolet's work; for the old gardener loved flowers dearly; and when hehad grown too old to work himself, he was so glad to feel that hisgarden pets need not be smothered up in weeds, and die.
So there he sat in the sun day after day, while he grew thinner and morefeeble; and one pleasant afternoon, when Violet thought he had taken toolong a nap, she went to waken him for fear he might take cold.
But she paused to look at the good old man as he sat there with hishands folded on his bosom, and such a beautiful smile on the wrinkledface, and the wind stirring the gray locks, while his head rested amongthe fresh summer leaves.
Reuben never awoke; he was dead.
Violet burst into tears, and wished for a moment that she could dieherself; but she thought of the mother who was too infirm to take careof herself, and who had lived with Reuben longer and would feel his lossmore than she.
Just then a bird flew from his nest in the vine, and soaring slowly,sang low at first, and sweetly, and then louder and louder, till he waslost among the clouds.
And Violet remembered what her father had said so often, that one ofthese days he should shake off the old aching body, and soar as lightlyas any bird, and live as happily, up in that calm heaven.
They buried Reuben under a great elm tree in sight of his own garden,and where he had often rested after his work, and watched the oriolesbuilding their nests or teaching their young to sing.
Lonely and sad enough it was in the hut when Violet and her mother wenthome and saw the old man's empty chair, and his garden tools hanging onthe wall.
"It won't be long before I shall follow him," said old Mary, "and thenGod will take care of our child."
"But I will take care of my mother first, for a great many years," saidViolet, drawing closer, and putting her arms around Mary protectingly;for Violet, though still young, was no longer a little child, as when weknew her first. The blue eyes, though, were just as bright and as fullof love and tenderness; and the light hair, which was folded now in wavybands over a calm white forehead, when the light touched it, had thesame golden look as of old. She had grown tall too, and healthy, and wasgraceful as a bird, and had a low, musical voice like the brook, and asmile like sunshine, and, in short, was beautiful as a fairy herself.
While she sat there, with her low, sweet voice, trying to console hermother, and now an
d then her own sunny smile breaking through even hertears, the door opened, and their landlord entered.
He had sold the pasture and the whole blackberry hill to a rich man whowould build there immediately; and they must move this very night, forthe hut stood in his way.
CHAPTER XXI.
A NEW HOME AND OLD FRIENDS.
Trouble seemed to come all at once; they had no money and no place tostore their humble furniture; but Violet always hoped for the best, andonly smiled when they began to move the rough chairs and table herfather had nailed together.
"There's one comfort," she said; "our things are not so fine that alittle dew will hurt them. We may leave them here till we find a betterplace."
But it did make her heart ache to see the men tear away her vines, evenfrom above old Reuben's seat, and then, with a few axe strokes, batterdown the wall, till nothing was left of the dear old home but a littlepile of boards.
"We had better go to this rich man and tell our story," said her mother,as they walked sadly out of the pasture for, as they thought, the lasttime.
"He was boarding," the landlord said, "at a hotel in the village whereReuben had carried his marketing, only three or four miles thence."
So, leaning on Violet's arm, old Mary crept along the dusty road,farther than she had walked for many a day, and was tired enough whenthey reached the hotel door.
Not so Violet, who was full of hope, and had in her head more plans thanone for finding a new home.
They asked for the stranger, Dr. Story, were led to his parlor, and toldtheir simple tale. He was interested at once, and very angry that theyhad been treated so badly on his account, and offered to give themmoney, while he hardly took his eyes from Violet's face.
"No," she said, smiling; "we did not come to beg, but thought, as we hadlost our home through you, you might be willing to help us findanother."
"And how shall I do that?" asked the doctor.
Then Violet told him that she had studied evenings so long it seemed toher she could teach in the village school; but she was poor, and had nofriends to speak a good word for her with the committee.
"What is your name?" asked the gentleman, suddenly.
"Violet."
"I thought so; and what has become of Toady?"
It was the doctor who had mended Toady's leg so many years ago, and theyoung man who sat reading on the sofa was no other than Alfred, his son,with the fairy Ambition still keeping him hard at work, and making himcare for little else but books.
He looked up though, and listened to Violet's story, and, as he watchedher, actually closed his book, and always afterwards closed it if sheentered the room; for fairy Love was stronger than Ambition, and hecould no more see in the purple light which fell from her wings than anowl could in broad noonday.
"But where is Narcissa?" asked Violet.
The father's face grew sad as he told how, the very day they were at thehut, in riding home the carriage was overturned, and Narcissa not onlylamed for life, but thrown against a tree, one of whose branches enteredher eye and put it out.
When Violet heard of this her eyes filled with tears, and forgetting allthe unkindness she had received from this girl, she only remembered howhandsome Narcissa was, and how happy she seemed as they drove away.
And the fairy Love shed such a beautiful light around the poor berrygirl, that Ambition hid in a corner, and Alfred didn't think of hisbooks again that day.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE NEW OLD HOME.
The doctor lent them money enough to hire a pleasant, sunny room in thevillage street, where her mother could sit and watch the passers by whenshe was tired of knitting and reading, for she was alone now almost allthe day, and Violet was mistress of the village school.
One morning, as Mary sat in her comfortable chair, and was wishing oldReuben could see what a beautiful home she had, a carriage drove to thedoor below, and then came a knock at her own door, and Dr. Storyentered.
"I have come to give you a ride this pleasant day," he said. "We willcall for Violet. Wouldn't you like to see how I have improved the oldblackberry field?"
Mary was delighted. She had never ridden in a carriage in her life; andto go in that splendid one of the doctor's, with velvet cushions, andfootmen behind! She sat very straight, you may be sure, and kept tuckingin her gown; for though it was new, she was afraid it might harm theseats, and her wrinkled face was shining all over with smiles.
They met Violet on her way home from school, and she was almost as muchpleased as the old lady with her ride.
But what was their surprise to find, instead of the little footpath, abroad avenue through the pasture, with young trees on each side, and thehill where the blackberry vines had been, covered with waving oats, andin front of Violet's own beloved wood a beautiful great house large as apalace!
"But now look on the other side," said Dr. Story.
Where the old hut had stood was the prettiest little cottage you eversaw, with the very clematis, and honeysuckle, and wild roses Violet hadplanted trained over it; and there was Reuben's garden all in order,just as they had left it; and under the great elm tree there was hisgrave, with a new white stone at the head, and the old man's name andage cut in it.
They alighted at the cottage door, and Violet noticed how the air wasperfumed with her own favorite flowers. While Alfred stooped to gathersome of these for Violet, his father said,--
"Do you remember, Mary, whose birthday this is?"
"Sure enough, it's Violet's!" exclaimed the old woman.
"And this," said the doctor, "is Violet's birthday present--this houseand garden, and these beds of flowers."
But before they could thank him, he added,--
"In return, you are to give up your school, and teach my own children.Will you do it, Violet? They are so young it will be easy at first, andmeantime you shall have teachers yourself."
Pleased as Violet and Mary were, I don't think they were half as glad asAlfred, who threw his book down into the grass so suddenly at hisfather's speech, I should not be surprised if it broke fairy Ambition'shead.
CHAPTER XXIII.
ALFRED.
The cottage was all furnished, and had even a foot stove for the oldlady, and a soft, stuffed easy chair in the parlor, while on thewoodshed wall hung Reuben's tools; and what do you think hopped up fromunder a board as Violet stood looking at these? Toady, on his threelegs, who winked his one round eye at her, as if he would say, "Isn'tall this fine?"
Then there was a school room, where Violet's pupils came every morning,and learned to love her as if she were their own sister.
After school she would tell them stories about the birds, and squirrels,and flowers, among which she had lived so long, or take them to walk inthe old pleasant places.
They told their sister Narcissa, who, like Violet, was grown to a younglady now, so much about the new teacher, that one pleasant day she wentto the cottage with them.
Violet was grieved to see how the handsome face was scarred and spoiled;but Narcissa said,--
"It was the best thing that ever happened to me, Violet--that accident;it cured me of pride and selfishness."
And it had, truly. Narcissa was so gentle and patient, you would nothave known her for the same person. She grew as fond of Violet as thechildren were; and when they were busy in the school room, studying, shewould often sit and read to the old lady in the sunny little room whereshe slept and spent almost all her time. This room looked out towardsthe violet beds, and over it the vines grew most luxuriantly; theirblossoms looked in at her window, and their shadows flickered over thebright-red carpet; while old Mary sat in her easy chair thinking ofReuben, who was dead and gone, and rejoicing that she could live and diewhere every thing reminded her of him, and be buried by his side.
By his side she _was_ buried, under the great elm tree, but not untilshe had lived many years in the cottage with Violet--the happiest yearsof her life.
Then Violet's friends at the great house said
she had better go and livewith them, it was so lonely in the old place now; and about this timeAlfred came home from India, where he had lived long enough to grow verysickly and very rich.
He told Violet that he had been earning money to take care of her, andnow, if she would be his wife, they might still live in the cottage andbe happy all their days.
But Alfred's father was proud and ambitious, and would not be satisfiedto have his son marry a poor berry girl. This Violet knew well enough;so she never told Alfred that she loved him, but only said "No" to hisoffers, at which he felt so badly he threatened to shoot himself.
But instead of this, he concluded afterwards to marry some one else--alady, rich, and accomplished, and gay, who made the great house merrierthan it had ever been before she went to it.
There were balls, and parties, and concerts, strangers coming and goingconstantly; there was no such thing as quiet.
Violet was unwilling to exchange for this her pleasant, sunny littlecottage; the vines and the elm tree and crowded garden beds had grown sodear to her, and the very birds and squirrels seemed to know and loveViolet, and sing and chip to her, "_Do_ stay."
How could she refuse? Who would take care of poor Toady if she went? andwho would feed the old faded cat lying now on the doorstep half asleep,opening half an eye sometimes to watch her kittens play, and then goingoff into a doze again like a worn-out grandmother, as she had become.
