Anne: A Novel

by Constance Fenimore Woolson

  CHAPTER XII.

  "Le hasard sait ce qu'il fait!"--_French Proverb._

  The next day there was a picnic. No one wished to go especially saveIsabel Varce, but no one opposed her wish. At Caryl's they generallyfollowed whatever was suggested, with indolent acquiescence. MissVanhorn, however, being a contrary planet revolving in an orbit of herown, at first declined to go; there were important plants to finish. ButMr. Dexter persuaded her to change her mind, and, with Anne, toaccompany him in a certain light carriage which he had ordered from thenext town, more comfortable than the Caryl red wagons, and not so heavyas her own coupe. Miss Vanhorn liked to be comfortable, and she wasplaying the part also of liking Gregory Dexter; she therefore accepted.She knew perfectly well that Dexter's "light carriage" had not come fromthe next town, but from New York; and she smiled at what she consideredthe effort of this new man to conceal his lavishness. But she was quitewilling that he should spend his money to gain her favor (she havingalready decided to give it to him), and therefore it was withcontentment that she stepped into the carriage--a model of its kind--onthe morning of the appointed day, and put up her glass to watch theothers ascending, by a little flight of steps, to the high table-land ofthe red wagons. Mr. Heathcote was on horseback; he dismounted, however,to assist Mrs. Bannert to her place. He raised his hat to Anne with hisusual quiet manner, but she returned his salutation with a bright smile.She was grateful to him. Had he not been kind to her?

  The picnic was like most picnics of the sort--heavy work for theservants, languid amusement, not unmixed with only partially concealedennui, on the part of the guests. There was but little wandering away,the participants being too few for much severance. They strolled throughthe woods in long-drawn links; they went to see a view from a knoll;they sang a few songs gently, faint pipings from the ladies, and nothingfrom the men (Blum being absent) save the correct bass of Dexter, whichseemed very far down indeed in the cellars of melody, while the ladieswere on the high battlements. The conversation was never exactly allowedto die out, yet it languished. Almost all would rather have been athome. The men especially found small pleasure in sitting on the ground;besides, a distinct consciousness that the attitude was not becoming.For the American does not possess a taste for throwing himself heartilydown upon Mother Earth. He can camp; he can hunt, swim, ride, walk, useIndian clubs, play base-ball, drive, row, sail a yacht, or even guide aballoon; but when it comes to grass, give him a bench.

  Isabel Varce, in a wonderful costume of woodland green, her somewhatsharp features shaded by a shepherdess hat, carried out her purpose--thesubjugation of a certain Peter Dane, a widower of distinction, a latearrival at Caryl's. Mrs. Bannert had Ward Heathcote by her side,apparently to the satisfaction of both. Other men and women werecontented or discontented as it happened; and two or three school-girlsof twelve or thirteen really enjoyed themselves, being at the happy agewhen blue sky and golden sunshine, green woods and lunch on the grass,are all that is necessary for supreme happiness.

  There was one comic element present, and by mistake. A reverendgentleman of the kind that calls everybody "brother" had arrivedunexpectedly at Caryl's; he was journeying for the purpose ofdistributing certain thin pamphlets of powerfully persuasive influenceas to general virtue, and as he had not been over that ground for someyears, he had no suspicion that Caryl's had changed, or that it was anymore important than Barr's, Murphy's, Allen's, and other hamlets in theneighborhood and possessive case, with whose attributes he was familiar.Old John Caryl had taken him in for a night or two, and had ordered theunused school-house at the cross-roads to be swept out for a hamletevening service; but the hamlet could not confine the Reverend EzraSloane. His heart waxed warm within him at the sight of so many persons,all well-to-do, pleasant to the eye, and apparently not pressed fortime. He had spent his life in ministering to the poor in this world'sgoods, and to the workers who had no leisure; it was a new pleasure tohim simply to be among the agreeable, well-dressed, and unanxious. Hetook his best coat from his lean valise, and wore it steadily. He was sohappy in his child-like satisfaction that no one rebuffed him, and whenhe presented himself, blandly smiling, to join the picnic party, no onehad the heart to tell him of his mistake. As he climbed complacentlyinto one of the wagons, however, stiff old Mrs. Bannert, on the backseat, gave John Caryl, standing at the horses' heads, a look which heunderstood. The Reverend Ezra must depart the next morning, or bemerged--conclusively merged--in the hamlet. His fate was sealed. Butto-day he disported himself to his heart's content; his smiling face waseverywhere. He went eagerly through the woods, joining now one group,now another; he laughed when they laughed, understanding, however, butfew of their allusions. He was restlessly anxious to join in thesinging, but could not, as he did not know their songs, and he proposed,in entire good faith, one or two psalms, giving them up, however,immediately, when old Mrs. Bannert, who had taken upon herself the taskof keeping him down, remarked sternly that no one knew the tunes. Hewent to see the view, and extending his hand, said, in his best manner,"Behold! brethren, is there not hill, and dale, and mountain, andvalley, and--river?" As he said "river" he closed his eyes impressively,and stood there among them the image of self-complacence. The wind blewout his black coat, and showed how thin it was, and the wearer as well.

  "HE TOOK HIS BEST COAT FROM HIS LEAN VALISE."]

  "Why is it always a thin, weakly man like that who insists upon callingpeople 'brethren'?" said Heathcote, as they stood a little apart.

  "Because, being weakly, we can not knock him down for it, as wecertainly should do if he was stronger," said Dexter.

  But it was especially at lunch that the Reverend Ezra shone forth;rising to the occasion, he brought forth all the gallant speeches of hisyouth, which had much the air of his grandfather's Green Mountainmusket. Some of his phrases Anne recognized: Miss Lois used them. Theyoung girl was pained to see how out of place he was, how absurd in hiswell-intentioned efforts; and she therefore drew him a little apart, andstrove to entertain him herself. She had known plain people on theisland, and had experienced much of their faithful goodness andgenerosity in times of trouble; it hurt her to have him ridiculed. Itcame out, during this conversation, that he knew something of botany,and on the strength of this passport she took him to Miss Vanhorn. TheReverend Ezra really did understand the flora of the district, throughwhich he had journeyed many times in former years on his old mare; MissVanhorn's sharp questions brought out what he knew, and gave him alsothe grateful sensation of imparting valuable information. He nowappeared quite collected and sensible. He mentioned, after a while, thatan orchid grew in these very woods at some distance up the mountain--anorchid which was rare. Miss Vanhorn had never seen that particularorchid in its wild state; a flush rose in her cheek.

  "We can drive out to-morrow and look for it, grandaunt," said Anne.

  "No," replied Miss Vanhorn, firmly; "that orchid must be found to-day,while Mr.--Mr.--"

  "Sloane," said the minister, affably.

  "--while Mr. Stone is with you to point out the exact locality. I desireyou to go with him immediately, Anne; _this_ is a matter of importance."

  "It is about two miles up the mountain," objected the missionary, loathto leave the festival.

  "Anne is not afraid of two short miles," replied the old woman,inflexibly. "And as for yourself, Mr. Doane, no doubt you will be gladto abandon this scene of idle frivolity." And then the Reverend Ezra, alittle startled by this view of the case, yielded, and sought his hatand cane.

  This conversation had taken place at one side. Mr. Dexter, however,talking ceremoniously with old Mrs. Bannert, overheard it, andimmediately thought of a plan by which it might be made available forhis own purposes. The picnic had not given him much satisfaction so far;it had been too languid. With all his effort, he could not quite enterinto the continuous indolence of Caryl's. True, he had taken Anne fromHeathcote, thus checking for the moment that gentleman's lazy supremacy,at least in one quarter; but there were other quarters, and He
athcotewas now occupying the one which Dexter himself coveted most of all,namely, the seat next to Rachel Bannert. Rachel was a widow, anduncomfortably dependent upon her mother-in-law. The elder Mrs. Bannertwas sharp-eyed as a hawk, wise as a serpent, and obstinate as ahedge-hog; Rachel as soft-voiced and soft-breasted as a dove; yet thelatter intended to have, and did in the end have, the Bannert estate,and in the mean time she "shared her mother-in-law's home." There werevarying opinions as to the delights of that home.

  Dexter, fretted by Heathcote's unbroken conversation with Rachel, andweary of the long inaction of the morning, now proposed that they shouldall go in search of the orchid; his idea was that at least it wouldbreak up existing proximities, and give them all something to do. Lunchhad been prolonged to the utmost extent of its vitality, and theparticipants were in the state of nerveless leaves in Indian summer,ready to float away on the first breeze. They strolled off, therefore,all save the elder ladies, through the wood, led by the delighted Ezra,who had that "God-bless-you-all-my-friends" air with which many worthypeople are afflicted. The apparent self-effacement effected bygood-breeding, even in the wicked, is certainly more agreeable to anordinary world than the unconscious egotism of a large class of thegood.

  After a quarter of an hour the woodman's trail they were followingturned and went up the mountain-side. No one save Anne and themissionary had the slightest intention of walking two miles to look fora flower, but they were willing to stroll on for a while. They came tothe main road, and crossed it, making many objections to its beingthere, with its commonplace daylight, after the shade, flickeringsunbeams, and vague green vistas of the forest. But on this road, in thedust, a travelling harp-player was trudging along, accompanied by awizened little boy and a still more wizened monkey.

  "Let us carry them off into the deepest woods, and have a dance," saidIsabel. "We will be nymphs and dryades, and all sorts of woodlandthings."

  It is difficult to dance on uneven ground, in the middle of the day, tothe sound of an untuned old harp, and a violin held upside down, andscraped by a melancholy boy. But Isabel had her way, or rather took it,and they all set off somewhat vaguely for "the deepest woods," leavingthe woodman's path, and following another track, which Isabel pronounced"such a dear little trail it must lead somewhere." The Reverend Ezra wasdisturbed. He thought he held them all under his own guidance, when, lo!they were not only leaving him and his orchid without a word of excuse,but were actually departing with a wandering harpist to find a levelspot on which to dance!

  "I--I think that path leads only to an old quarry," he said, with ahesitating smile.

  But no one paid any attention to him, save Anne, who had paused also,uncertain what to do.

  "We will get the orchid afterward, Miss Douglas," said Dexter. "Ipromise that you shall have it."

  "But Mr. Sloane," said Anne, glancing toward the deserted missionary.

  "Come with us, dominie," said Dexter, with the ready good-nature thatwas one of his outward characteristics. It was a quick, tolerantgood-nature, and seemed to belong to his broad, strong frame.

  But the dominie had a dignity of his own, after all. When he realizedthat he was forsaken, he came forward and said quietly that he would goup the mountain alone and get the orchid, joining them at the main-roadcrossing on the way back.

  "As you please," said Dexter. "And I, for one, shall feel much indebtedto you, sir, if you bring back the flower, because I have promised MissDouglas that she should have it, and should be obliged to go for itmyself, ignorant as I am, were it not for your kindness."

  He raised his hat courteously, and went off with Anne to join theothers, already out of sight.

  "I suppose he does not approve of the dancing," said the girl, lookingback.

  But Dexter did not care whether he approved or disapproved; he hadalready dismissed the dominie from his mind.

  The path took them to a deserted stone-quarry in the side of the hill.There was the usual yawning pit, floored with broken jagged masses, andchips of stone, the straight bare wall of rock above, and the forestgreenery coming to the edge of the desolation on all sides, and leaningover to peep down. The quarrymen had camped below, and the little openspace where once their lodge of boughs had stood was selected by Isabelfor the dancing floor. The harpist, a small old man clad in a grimyvelveteen coat, played a waltz, to which the little Italian boy added alagging accompaniment; the monkey, who seemed to have belonged to somedefunct hand-organ, sat on a stump and surveyed the scene. They did notall dance, but Isabel succeeded in persuading a few to move through aquadrille whose figures she improvised for the occasion. But the scenewas more picturesque when, after a time, the dull partners in coats werediscarded, and the floating draperies danced by themselves, joininghands in a ring, and circling round and round with merry little motionswhich were charmingly pretty, like kittens at play. Then they made theboy sing, and he chanted a tune which had (musically) neither beginningnor end, but a useful quality of going on forever. But whatever he did,and whatever they gave him, made no difference in his settledmelancholy, which the monkey's small face seemed to caricature. Thenthey danced again, and this time Dexter took part, while the othercoated ones remained on the grass, smoking. It ended in his waltzingwith them all in turn, and being overwhelmed with their praises, which,however, being levelled at the heads of the others by strongly impliedcomparison, were not as valuable as they seemed. Dexter knew that hegained nothing by joining in that dance; but where there was somethingto do, he could not resist doing it. When the waltz was over, and thewandering musicians sent on their way with a lavish reward of silver,which the monkey had received cynically as it was placed piece by piecein his little paw, Isabel led off all the ladies "to explore thequarry," expressly forbidding the others to follow. With an air of greatenjoyment in their freedom and solitude the floating draperies departed,and the smokers were left under the trees, content, on their side also,to have half an hour of quiet. Mr. Peter Dane immediately and heartilyyawned at full width, and was no longer particular as to the position ofhis legs. In truth, it was the incipient fatigue on the face of thisdistinguished widower which had induced Isabel to lead off her exploringparty; for when a man is over fifty, nothing is more dangerous than totire him. He never forgives it.

  Isabel led her band round to an ascent, steep but not long; her plan wasto go up the hill through the wood, and appear on the top of the quarry,so many graceful figures high in the air against the blue sky, for theindolent smokers below to envy and admire. Isabel was a slender creaturewith a pale complexion; the slight color produced by the exercise wouldbe becoming. Rachel, who was dimpled, "never could climb"; her "ankles"were "not strong." (And certainly they were very small ankles for such aweight of dimples.) The party now divided itself under these twoleaders; those who were indolent staid with Rachel; those who were notafraid of exercise went with Isabel. A few went for amusement, withoutmotive; among these was Anne. One went for wrath; and this was ValeriaMorle.

  It is hard for a neutral-faced girl with a fixed opinion of her ownimportance to learn the lesson of her real insignificance, when removedfrom the background of home, at a place like Caryl's. Valeria was there,mistakenly visiting an aunt for two weeks, and with the calm security ofthe country mind, she had mentally selected Ward Heathcote as her knightfor the time being, and had bestowed upon him in consequence severallittle speeches and smiles carefully calculated to produce animpression, to mean a great deal to any one who was watching. ButHeathcote was not watching; the small well-regulated country smiles hadabout as much effect as the twitterings of a wren would have in a woodfull of nightingales. Miss Morle could not understand it; had they notslain their thousands, nay, ten thousands (young lady's computation), inMorleville? She now went up the hill in silent wrath, glad to dosomething and to be away from Heathcote. Still, she could not helpbelieving that he would miss her; men had been known to be very muchinterested in girls, and yet make no sign for a long time. They watchedthem from a distance. In this case Valeria was t
o have her hopesrealized. She was to be watched, and from a distance.

  The eight who reached the summit sported gayly to and fro for a while,now near the edge, now back, gathering flowers and throwing them over,calling down to the smokers, who lay and watched them, without, however,any burning desire especially visible on their countenances to climb upand join them. Valeria, with a stubborn determination to make herself insome way conspicuous, went to the edge of the cliff, and even leanedover; she had one arm round a young tree, but half of her shoes (by nomeans small ones) were over the verge, and the breeze showed that theywere. Anne saw it, and spoke to Isabel.

  "If she will do it, she will," answered Isabel; "and the more we noticeher, the more she will persist. She is one of those dull girls intendedby Nature to be always what is called sensible. And when one of _those_girls takes to making a fool of herself, her idiocy is colossal."

  But Isabel's philosophy did not relieve Anne's fear. She called toValeria, warningly, "You are very near the edge, Miss Morle; wouldn't itbe safer to step back a little?"

  But Valeria would not. They were all noticing her at last. They shouldsee how strong her nerves were, how firm her poise. The smokers below,too, were now observing her. She threw back her head, and hummed alittle tune. If the edge did not crumble, she was, in truth, safeenough. To a person who is not dizzy, five inches of foot-hold is assafe as five yards.

  But--the edge did crumble. And suddenly. The group of women behind hadthe horror, of seeing her sway, stagger, slip down, frantically writheon the verge half an instant, and then, with an awful scream, slide overout of sight, as her arm was wrenched from the little tree. Those belowhad seen it too. They sprang to their feet, and ran first forward, thenround and up the hill behind.

  For she had not slipped far. The cliff jutted out slightly a shortdistance below the verge, and, by what seemed a miracle, the girl washeld by this second edge. Eight inches beyond, the sheer precipicebegan, with the pile of broken stones sixty feet below. Anne was thefirst to discover this, reaching the verge as the girl sank out ofsight; the others, shuddering, put their hands over their eyes and clungtogether.

  "She has not fallen far," cried Anne, with a quick and burningexcitement. "Lie still, Valeria," she called down. "Close your eyes,and make yourself perfectly motionless; hardly breathe. We will save youyet."

  She took hold of the young tree to test its strength, at the same timespeaking rapidly to the others. "By lying down, and clasping that treetrunk with one arm, and then stretching over, I can just reach her hand,I think, and seize it. Do you see? That is what I am going to try to do.I can not tell how strong this tree is; but--there is not a moment tolose. After I am down, and have her hand, do anything you think best tosecure us. Either hold me yourselves or make ropes of your sacques andshawls. If help comes soon, we can save her." While still speaking, shethrew herself down upon the edge, clasped one arm strongly round thetree trunk, and stretching down sideways, her head and shoulder over theverge, she succeeded in first touching, then clasping, the wrist of thegirl below, who could not see her rescuer as she lay facing theprecipice with closed eyes, helpless and inert. It was done, but onlytwo girls' wrists as a link.

  The others had caught hold of Anne as strongly as they could.

  "No," said Isabel, taking command excitedly; "one of you hold herfirmly, and the rest clasp arms and form a chain, all sitting down, tothat large tree in the rear. If the strain comes, throw yourselvestoward the large tree."

  So they formed a chain. Isabel, looking over, saw that the girl belowhad clasped Anne's wrist with her own fingers also--a strong grasp, adeath-grasp. If she slipped farther, Anne must slip too.

  All this had not taken two minutes--scarcely a minute and a half. Theywere now all motionless; they could hear the footsteps of the menhurrying up the hill behind, coming nearer and nearer. But how slow theywere! How long! The men were exactly three minutes, and it is safe tosay that never in their lives had they rushed up a hill with suchdesperate haste and energy. But--women expect wings.

  Heathcote and Dexter reached the summit first. There they beheld fivewhite-cheeked women, dressed in various dainty floating fabrics, andadorned with ferns and wild flowers, sitting on the ground, claspingeach others' hands and arms. They formed a line, of which the woman atone end had her arm round a large tree, and the woman at the other roundthe body of a sixth, who was half over the cliff. A seventh and freeperson, Isabel, stood at the edge, her eyes fixed on the heavy formpoised along the second verge below. No one spoke but Isabel. "She hascaught on something, and Anne is holding her," she explained, in quickalthough low tones, as if afraid to disturb even the air. But while shewas speaking the two men had gone swiftly to the edge, at a littledistance below the group, and noted the position themselves.

  "Let me--" began Dexter.

  "No, you are too heavy," answered Heathcote. "_You_ must hold _me_."

  "Yes," said Isabel. "Quick! quick!" A woman in a hurry would say"Quick!" to the very lightning.

  But if men are slow, they are sure. Heathcote stretched himself downcarefully on the other side of the little tree, but without touching it,that being Anne's chief support, and bearing his full weight uponDexter, who in turn was held by the other men, who had now come up, heseized Valeria's arm firmly above Anne's hand, and told Anne to let goher hold. They were face to face; Anne's forehead was suffused with red,owing to her cramped position.

  "I can not; she has grasped my wrist," she answered.

  "Let go, Miss Morle," called Heathcote. "I have you firmly; do you notfeel my hand?"

  But Valeria would not; perhaps could not.

  "Some of you take hold of Miss Douglas, then," called Heathcote to themen above. "The girl below will not loosen her hold, and you will haveto draw us all up together."

  "Ready?" called the voices above, after an instant.

  "Ready," answered Heathcote.

  Then he felt himself drawn upward slowly, an inch, two inches; so didAnne. The two downward-stretched arms tightened; the one upward-liftedarm began to rise from the body to which it belonged. But what a weightfor that one arm! Valeria was a large, heavy girl, with a ponderousweight of bone. In the position in which she lay, it seemed probablethat her body might swing over the edge, and almost wrench the arm fromits socket by its weight.

  "Stop," said Heathcote, perceiving this. The men above paused. "Are youafraid to support her for one instant alone, Anne?" he asked.

  "No," murmured Anne. Her eyes were blood-shot; she saw him through acrimson cloud.

  "Keep me firmly," he called out, warningly, to Dexter. Then, letting gohis first hold, he stretched down still farther, made a slight springforward, and succeeded in grasping Valeria's waist. "_Now_ pull up, andquickly," he said, panting.

  And thus, together, Valeria firmly held by Heathcote, the two rescuersand the rescued were drawn safely up from danger to safe level again.Only a few feet, but all the difference between life and death.

  When the others looked down upon the now uncovered space, they saw thatit was only the stump of a slender cedar sapling, a few inches inheight, and two little edges of rock standing up unevenly here andthere, which had formed the parapet. A person might have tried all day,with an acrobat's net spread below for safety, to cling there, withoutsuccess; Valeria had fallen at the one angle and in the one positionwhich made it possible. Two arms were strained, and that was all.

  Isabel was white with nervous fear; the others showed traces of tears.But the cause of all this anxiety and trouble, although entirelyuninjured and not nervous (she had not seen herself), sat smiling uponthem all in a sweet suffering-martyr way, and finally went down the hillwith masculine escort on each side--apotheosis not before attained. Willit be believed that this girl, fairly well educated and in her sobersenses, was simpleton enough to say to Heathcote that evening, in asentimental whisper, "How I wish that Miss Douglas had not touched me!"There was faint moonlight, and the simpering expression of the neutralface filled him with astonishment. De
xter would have understood: Dexterwas accustomed to all varieties of women, even the Valeria variety: butHeathcote was not. All he said, therefore, was, "Why?"

  "Because then _you_ alone would have saved me," murmured Valeria,sweetly.

  "If Miss Douglas had not grasped you as she did, we might all have beentoo late," replied Heathcote, looking at her in wonder.

  "Ah, no; I did not slip farther. You would have been in time," said thebelle of Morleville, with what she considered a telling glance. And sheactually convinced herself that she had made an impression.

  "I ought not to have done it, of course, Louisa," she said to herbosom-friend, in the privacy of her own room, after her return toMorleville; "but I really felt that he deserved at least _that_ rewardfor his great devotion to me, poor fellow!"

  "And why couldn't you like him, after all, Valeria dear?" urged Louisa,deeply interested, and not a little envious.

  "I could not--I could not," replied Valeria, slowly and virtuously,shaking her head. "He had not the principles I require in a man. But--Ifelt sorry for him."

  Oh, ineffable Valerias! what would life be without you?

  Dexter had been the one to offer his arm to Anne when she felt able togo down the hill. At the main-road crossing they found the Reverend Mr.Sloane faithfully sitting on a dusty bank, with the orchid in his hand,waiting for them. It seemed to Anne that a long and vague period of timehad passed since they parted from him. But she was glad to get theorchid; she knew that no slight extraneous affair, such as the saving ofa life, would excuse the absence of that flower. Rachel Bannert hadchafed Heathcote's strained arm with her soft hands, and arranged asling for it made of her sash. She accompanied him back to the picnicground. It was worth while to have a strained arm.

  Miss Vanhorn considered that it was all nonsense, and was inclined toreprove her niece. But she had the orchid; and when Dexter came up, andin a few strong words expressed his admiration for the young girl'scourage, she changed her mind, and agreed with him, although regretting"the display."

  "Girls like that Morle should be manacled," she said.

  "And I, for one, congratulate myself that there was, as you call it, adisplay--a display of the finest resolution I have ever seen in a younggirl," said Dexter, warmly. "Miss Douglas was not even sure that thelittle tree was firm; and of course she could not tell how long it wouldtake us to come."

  "They all assisted, I understand," said Miss Vanhorn, impassively.

  "They all assisted _afterward_. But not one of them would have taken herplace. Miss Morle seized her wrist immediately, and with the grasp of avise. They must inevitably have gone over together."

  "Well, well; that is enough, I think," said Miss Vanhorn. "We will drivehome now," she added, giving her orders as though both the carriage andits owner were her own property.

  When she had been assisted into her place, and Anne had taken her seatbeside her, Heathcote, who had not spoken to his fellow-rescuer sincethey reached level ground, came forward to the carriage door, with hisarm in its ribbon sling, and offered his hand. He said only a word ortwo; but, as his eyes met hers, Anne blushed--blushed suddenly andvividly. She was realizing for the first time how she must have lookedto him, hanging in her cramped position, with crimson face and wildfalling hair.