A Little Girl in Old Pittsburg

by Amanda M. Douglas

  CHAPTER XII

  SPINNING WITH VARIOUS THREADS

  "Richard," Mrs. Forbes began, looking up from the beaded purse she wasknitting, "do you know anything about that Englishman, Andsdell?"

  He had been reading, and smoking his pipe. He laid down both.

  "A sort of goodish, well-informed fellow, who doesn't drink to excess,and is always a gentleman. He plays a good deal, and wins oftener thanhe loses, but that's luck and knowledge. Like so many young men, hecame over to seek his fortune. He was in Virginia, was some general'saide, I believe. Why are you so eager to know his record?"

  "Why?" laughing softly. "I think he is very much smitten with DaffodilCarrick. She is pretty and sweet, a most admirable daughter, but,somehow, the beaux do not flock about her. She will make some one alovely wife."

  "Young Langdale has a fancy for her."

  "And she is not at all charmed with military glory. Her father was agood, brave soldier, and went at the darkest of times, because hiscountry needed him, not for fame or enthusiasm. She has heard toomuch of the dangers and struggles. Edward Langdale is full ofsoldierly ardor. They have had opportunities enough to be in love, andshe rather shrinks from him. No, her husband, whoever he is, must be acivilian."

  "Why, I think I can learn about him. The Harrisons are atWilliamsburg, you know. And there is a slight relationship between us.Yes, it would be well to learn before you dream of wedding rings andall that."

  Still she could not resist asking Daffodil in to tea to meet somefriends. There were Mrs. Trent, the wife of the first lieutenant, andBessy Lowy, young Langdale, and the Englishman. Bessy was a charming,dark-eyed coquette, ready of wit, and she did admire Ned. Andsdell wasalmost a stranger to her, and in the prettiest, most winsome fashionshe relegated him to Miss Carrick.

  They had a gay time, for Mrs. Trent was very bright and chatty, andher husband had a fund of small-talk. Afterward they played cards, theamusement of the times. In two of the games Ned had Daffodil for apartner, but she was not an enthusiastic player. And she had acceptedAndsdell's escort home, much to Ned's chagrin.

  "I did not know whether you would be at liberty," she said simply.

  "I'll have an afternoon off Thursday. Will you go for a walk?"

  She hesitated, and he remarked it.

  "I see so little of you now. And you always seem--different."

  "But you know I am quite grown up. We are no longer children. And thatmakes a change in every one."

  "But that need not break friendship."

  "I think it doesn't break friendship always," she returnedthoughtfully.

  "Daffodil, you are the loveliest and sweetest girl I have ever known."

  "But not in the whole world," she rejoined archly.

  "In my world. That is enough for me. Good-night;" and he longed tokiss her hand.

  She and Andsdell came down from the Fort, crossed several streets, andthen turned to the east. Philadelphia was their theme of conversation.

  "I was such a little girl then," she said, with almost childisheagerness. "Everything was so different. I felt as if I was in apalace, and the maid dressed me with so much care, and went out towalk with me, and Miss Wharton was so charming. And now she is inFrance."

  "Would you like to go to France--Paris?"

  "Oh, I don't know. You have been there?"

  "Yes, for a short stay."

  "And London, and ever so many places?"

  "Yes. But I never want to see it again."

  Something in his tone jarred a little.

  "I am glad you like America."

  Then they met her father, who was coming for her, but Mr. Andsdellwent on with them to the very door.

  "Did you have a fine time?" asked her mother.

  "Oh, yes, delightful. Mrs. Trent was so amusing, and Bessy Lowy waslike some one in a play. I wish my eyes were dark, like yours. I thinkthey are prettier."

  Her mother smiled and kissed her.

  All the next morning Dilly sat and spun on the little wheel, and sangmerry snatches from old ballads. She wished she were not going to walkwith Lieutenant Langdale.

  "Is there any wrong in it, mother?" she asked, turning her perplexedface to Barbe.

  "Why, not as I see. You have been friends for so long. And it isseldom that he gets out now."

  The Post brought a letter from Archie. It was really very joyous. Hehad won a prize for a fine treatise, and had joined a club, not forpleasure or card playing, but debating and improvement of the mind.

  She was very glad they would have this to talk about. And when Ned sawher joyous face, and had her gay greeting, his heart gave a greatbound. They went off together in a merry fashion.

  "Oh, you cannot think"--then pausing suddenly--"Did you have word fromArchie in the post?"

  "No, but a letter came for mother."

  "You hurried me so, or I should have remembered to bring it. Fatherthought it so fine. He has won a prize, twenty-five pounds. And hethinks another year he may pass all the examinations. Oh, won't yourmother be glad?"

  There was such a sweet, joyous satisfaction in her tone, such a lovelylight in her eyes, that his heart made a protest.

  "You care a great deal about his success?" he said jealously.

  "Yes, why not?" in surprise.

  "And none about mine?"

  "Why--it is so different;" faltering a little. "And you know I neverwas overfond of soldiering."

  "Where would the country have been but for the brave men who foughtand gained her liberty? Look at General Washington, and that bravenoble-hearted Lafayette. And there was General Steuben that winter atValley Forge, sharing hardship when he might have lived at ease. Itstirs my blood when I think of the hundreds of brave men, and I amproud to be a soldier."

  He stood up very straight, and there was a world of resolution in hiseyes, a flush on his cheek.

  "But you are glad of his success?"

  "And why should you not be as glad of mine?" not answering herquestion.

  "Why--I am. But you see that appeals to me the more. Yet I shall beglad for you to rise in your profession, and win honors,only--fighting shocks me all through. I am a coward."

  "And he will come back a doctor, and you will rejoice with him. Ishouldn't mind that so much, but you will marry him----"

  "Marry him! Ned, what are you thinking of!"

  There was a curious protest in her face almost strong enough forhorror. Even her lips lost their rosy tint.

  "What I am thinking of is this," and there was a fierce desperation inhis tone. "I love you! love you! and I cannot bear to think of yougoing to any other man, of any person calling you wife. I've alwaysloved you, and it has grown with my manhood's strength. Archie willalways be lost in his books, and his care for others. A doctor oughtnever to marry, he belongs to the world at large. And I want you in myvery life;" then his arms were about her, and clasped her so tightlythat for an instant she could make no protest. She pushed away anddropped on a great stone, beginning to cry.

  "Oh, Daffodil, what have I done! It is my wild love. It is like someplant that grows and grows, and suddenly bursts into bloom. I almosthated Bessy Lowy taking possession of me in that fashion. I wanted totalk to you, to be near you, to touch your dear hand. All last night Ilay awake thinking of you. It was so sweet that I did not want tosleep."

  "Oh, hush," she entreated, "hush," making as if she would put him awaywith her slim hands. "You must not talk so to me. It is a language Ido not understand, do not like. I think I am not meant for lovers andmarriage. I will be friends always, and rejoice in your success. Andit is the same with Archie. Oh, let me live my own quiet life withfather and mother----"

  "And never marry?"

  "Not for years to come, perhaps never. I am not afraid of being calledan old maid. For Miss Wharton was delightful and merry, and like amother to me, though I shall not be as gay and fond of good times. Ilike quiet and my own pretty dreams, and to talk with the birds andsquirrels in the woods, and the lambs in the fields, and sometimesg
reat-grandfather comes back."

  Her face was partly turned away, and had a rapt expression. He waswalking moodily up and down. Why was she so different from most girls?And yet he loved her. She might outgrow this--was it childishness?

  "Well," with a long sigh, "I will wait. If it is not Archie----"

  "It is no one. And when some nice girl loves you--oh, Ned, you shouldfind some nice sweet girl, who will be glad of your love. I thinkgirls are when they meet with the right one. And do not think of me inthat way."

  "I shall think of you in that way all the rest of my life. And if youdo not marry, I shall not marry either."

  Then there was a long silence.

  "Shall we go on?" she asked timidly.

  "The walk is spoiled. It doesn't matter now;" moodily.

  "Oh, Ned, let us be friends again. I cannot bear to have any one angrywith me. No one ever is but grandad, when we talk about the country orthe whiskey tax," and she laughed, but it was half-heartedly.

  What a child she was, after all. For a moment or two he fancied he didnot care so much, but her sweet face, her lovely eyes, the daintyhands hanging listlessly at her side, brought him back to hisallegiance.

  They walked on, but the glory had gone out of the day, the hope in hisheart, the simple gladness of hers. Then the wind began to blow upchilly, and dark clouds were drifting about. She shivered.

  "Are you cold? Perhaps we had better go back?"

  "Well"--in a sort of resigned tone. Then, after a pause--"Are you veryangry with me?"

  "Perhaps not angry--disappointed. I had meant to have such a nicetime."

  "I am sorry. If I could have guessed, I would not have agreed tocome."

  They paused at the gate. No, he would not come in. The fine facebetrayed disappointment.

  "But you will come sometime, when you have quite forgiven me," and theadorable tenderness in her tone reawakened hope. After all, Archie wasnot looking forward to marriage. Jeffrey Andsdell had not even enteredhis mind.

  She went in, and threw aside her hat.

  "Did you have a nice walk? You came back soon."

  "No, I did not. Ned neither." She went and stood straight before hermother, pale, yet with a certain dignity.

  "You did not quarrel, I hope. Is it true he is charmed by Bessy?"

  "He asked me to love him. He wants to marry me;" in a tone that wasalmost a cry.

  "Well?" subjoined her mother. The young lieutenant was a favorite withher, worth any girl's acceptance, in her estimation.

  "I--I don't understand about love. To give away your whole life, yearsand years;" and she shivered.

  "But if you loved him, if you were glad to do it;" and the mother'stone was encouraging.

  "Ah. I think one ought to be glad. And I wasn't glad when he kissedme." Her face was scarlet now, her bosom heaving with indignation, hereyes full of protest.

  "He will make a nice husband. His father is devoted to his mother. Hehas learned what a true and tender love really is."

  "Mother, would you like me to marry?"

  She knelt down at her mother's knee.

  "Oh, my dear, not until you love some one;" and she kissed her fondly.

  "Do you think there was ever a girl who could not love in that way?"

  "I should be sorry for her; love is the sweetest thing in life, thebest gift of the good Lord is a good husband."

  Autumn was coming on slowly. Housewives were making preparations forwinter. Daffodil was cheery and helpful. Grandmere was not as well asusual. She said she was growing old. There was a great deal of outsidebusiness for the men. Pittsburg was a borough town, and its citizenswere considering various industries. Every day almost, new things cameto the fore, and now they were trying some experiments in makingglass. The country round was rich in minerals. Boat-building requiredlarger accommodations. The post road had been improved, straightened,the distance shortened. There were sundry alterations in looms, andhomespun cloth was made of a better quality.

  Daffodil Carrick watched some of the lovers, who came under hernotice. She met Lieutenant Langdale occasionally, and they wereoutwardly friends. They even danced together, but her very franknessand honesty kept up the barrier between them. He tried to make herjealous, but it never quickened a pulse within her.

  Yet in a curious way she was speculating on the master passion. Therewere not many books to distract her attention, but one day there camea package from her guardian that contained a few of the old ratherstilted novels, and some volumes of poems by the older English poets,dainty little songs that her mother sung, and love verses to this oneor that one, names as odd as hers. And how they seemed to love Daisiesand Daffodils.

  She took them out with her on her walks, and read them aloud to thewoods, and the birds, or sometimes sang them. Jeffrey Andsdell found awood nymph one day and listened. He had met her twice since theevening at Mrs. Forbes'. And he wondered now whether he shouldsurprise her or go his way.

  She rose presently, and by a sudden turn surprised him.

  "I beg your pardon," he said. "I have been listening, enchanted. FirstI could not imagine whether it was some wandering fay or wood nymphwild."

  "Oh, do I look very wild?" with a most charming smile.

  "Why"--he colored a little--"perhaps the word may have more than onemeaning. Oh, you look as if you were part of the forest, a sprite orfairy being."

  "Oh, do you believe in them? I sit here sometimes and call them up.There was an odd volume sent me awhile ago, a play by Shakespere,'Midsummer Night's Dream,' and it is full of those little mischievouselves and dainty darlings."

  "That is not it?" coming nearer and looking at her book.

  "Oh, it is verses by one Mr. Herrick. Some of them almost singthemselves, and I put tunes to them."

  "And sing to the woods and waters. You should have a more appreciativeaudience."

  "Oh, I couldn't sing to real people," and she flushed. "I wonderif"--and there came a far-away look in her eyes that passed him, andyet he saw it.

  "What is the wonder?"

  "That if you could write verses, songs."

  She asked it in all simplicity.

  "No, I couldn't;" in the frankest of tones.

  "One must know a good deal."

  "And be a genius beside."

  "What queer names they give the girls. Chloe, that isn't a bit pretty,and Phyllis, that is a slave name. And Lesbia, that isn't so bad."

  "I think I have found Daffodil among them. And that is beautiful."

  "Do you think so?" She could not tell why she was glad, but he saw itin her face, and what a sweet face it was! He wondered then how such afascinating bit of sweetness and innocence could have kept its charmin this rather rough soil. Her frankness was fascinating.

  "Do you come here often?" he asked presently.

  "Oh, yes, in the summer."

  "That was when I first met you. I was with Mrs. Forbes. And her littletea was very nice and social. I've not seen you since. Don't you go tothe Fort only on special invitation? There are quite a number ofvisitors. Strangers always come."

  "I am quite busy," she replied. "Grandmere has not been well, and Ihelp mother. There is a great deal to do in the fall."

  Such a pretty housewifely look settled in her face. How lovely it was,with the purity of girlhood.

  The wind swayed the wooded expanse, and sent showers of scarlet andgolden maple leaves down upon them. The hickory was a blaze of yellow,some oaks were turning coppery. Acorns fell now and then, squirrelsran about and disputed over them. He reached over and took her book,seating himself on the fallen log, and began reading to her. The soundof his voice and the melody of the poems took her into another land,the land of her fancy. If one could live in it always! The sun droppeddown, and it seemed evening, though it was more the darkness of thewoods.

  She rose. They walked down together, there was no third person, and hehelped her with the gentlest touch over some hillocks made by therain-washed roots of the trees. Then she slipped on some dead pineneed
les, and his arm was around her for several paces, and quietlywithdrawn.

  Daffodil laughed and raised her face to his.

  "Once I slipped this way, it was over on the other path, where it issteeper, and slid down some distance, but caught a tree and savedmyself, for there was a big rock I was afraid I should hit. And I waspretty well scratched. Now I catch the first thing handy. That rock isa splendid big thing. You ought to see it."

  "You must pilot me some day."

  They emerged into the light. The rivers were still gleaming with thesunset fire, but over eastward it was twilight gray.

  "Good-night;" as they reached her house. "I am glad I found you therein the woods. I have had a most enjoyable time."

  "Good-night," she said in return.

  A neighbor was sitting by the candle her mother had just lighted.

  "Dilly, you come over here and write these recipes. My eyes ain't whatthey used to be. And your mother does make some of that peppery saucethat my man thinks the best in Pittsburg. And that grape jam is hardto beat. Your fingers are young and spry, they hain't washed, andscrubbed, and kneaded bread, 'n' all that for forty year."

  Daffodil complied readily. Mrs. Carrick told the processes as well.

  "For there's so much in the doin'," said Mrs. Moss. "That's the realluck of it."

  Felix went down to the shipyard after school, and came home with hisfather. To go to New Orleans now was his great aim.

  "Grandad wants you to come over there," Mrs. Carrick said to herdaughter.

  "Then I'll have to read my paper myself," Mr. Carrick complained.

  Grandad wanted her to go over some papers. They were all right, heknew, but two heads were better than one, if one was a pin's head.Then she must gossip awhile with Norah, while grandad leaned back inhis chair and snored. Her father came for her, and she went to bed tothe music of the dainty poems read in an impressive voice.

  And when she awoke in the morning there seemed a strange music surgingin her ears, and in her heart, and she listened to it like oneentranced. But she had gone past the days of fairy lore, she was nolonger a little girl to build wonderful magic haunts, and people them.Yet what was it, this new anticipation of something to come that wouldexceed all that had gone before?

  It came on to rain at noon, a sort of sullen autumn storm, with notmuch wind at first, but it would gain power at nightfall. Daffodil andher mother were sewing on some clothes for the boy, women had learnedto make almost everything. It took time, too. There were no magicsewing machines. Grandmere was spinning on the big wheel the otherside of the room, running to and fro, and pulling out the wool intoyarn.

  "Why so grave, child? Is it a thought of pity for the lieutenant?" andMrs. Carrick gave a faint smile that would have invited confidence ifthere had been any to give. She could hardly relinquish the idea thather daughter might relent.

  "Oh, no. One can hardly fix the fleeting thoughts that wander idlythrough one's brain. The loneliness of the woods when the squirrelshide in their holes, and no bird voices make merry. And bits of versesand remembrance of half-forgotten things. Is any one's mindaltogether set upon work? There are two lives going on within us."

  Barbe Carrick had never lived but the one life, except when herhusband was with the army, and she was glad enough to lay down theother. Had it been wise for Daffodil to spend those months inPhiladelphia? Yet she had accepted her old home cheerfully. And allunconsciously she had worked changes in it to her grandmother'sdelight. Now her father was prospering. They would be among the "bestpeople" as time went on.

  The storm lasted three days. There had been some hours of wild fury init, when the trees groaned and split, and the rivers lashed themselvesinto fury. Then it cleared up with a soft May air, and some thingstook a second growth. There was a sort of wild pear tree at the cornerof the garden, and it budded.

  Daffodil did not take her accustomed walk up in the woods. Somethingheld her back, but she would not allow to herself it was that.Instead, she took rides on Dolly in different directions. One day shewent down to the shipyard with a message for her father. Mr. Andsdellstood talking with him. Her pulses suddenly quickened.

  "Well, you've started at the right end," Bernard Carrick was saying."This place has a big future before it. If it was a good place for afort, it's a splendid place for a town. Philadelphia can't hold acandle to it, if she did have more than a hundred years the start. Whythey should have gone way up the Delaware River beats me. Yes, come upto the house, and we'll talk it over."

  Then they both turned to the young girl. There was a pleasurable lightin Andsdell's eyes.

  Afterward he walked some distance beside her horse. The storm, thebeautiful weather since, the busy aspect of the town, the nothingsthat are so convenient when it is best to leave some things inabeyance. Then he said adieu and turned to his own street, where hehad lodgings.

  She went on with a curiously light heart. Her father had said, "Comeup to the house," and she was glad she had not gone to the woods inthe hope of meeting him.

  She slipped off Dolly and ran to the garden. "Oh, Norry, what are youdoing?" she cried with a sound of anger in her voice. "My beautifulpear blossoms! I've been watching them every day."

  They lay on the ground. Norry even sprang up for the last one.

  "They're bad luck, child! Blossoms or fruit out of season is troublewithout reason. I hadn't spied them before, or I wouldn't have letthem come to light. That's as true as true can be. There, don't cry,child. I hope I haven't been too late."

  "Yes. I've heard the adage," said her mother. "Norry issuperstitious."